Eagle's Freedom
by LostUmbreon
Summary: Even heroes have their shadows. What happens when Alfred's shadows come back to haunt him? Contains character death, yaoi, sexual themes, slight incest and rape
1. Chapter 1: Shadows of a Feather

_What would you do if your history haunted you?_

On a bright, sunny day, fluffy white clouds hung lazily in the sky. A young man with short, dirty blond hair was carrying black trash bags out to his shed. Mentioned shed was shunned in the corner of this man's property. And to say a house was on this property would be the understatement of the century. It was grand house - three stories high, not including the attic and basement. It was regal and grand, hundreds of years old, yet still nice looking. The shingles were slates of dark grey colour, the house's sidings were but a few shades darker than a rich cream, a white trim around the doors and windows. The look was completed with brick red shutters and a grand front and side porch, which were decorated nicely with patio furniture. The yard itself was something to marvel. Plants of various sorts were arranged and placed about the yard in a way only a mad genius could make it look nice.

The yard was lush, but by no means symmetrical. From the bright, dancing poppies trailing along the sidewalk, to the swaying daffodils along the driveway, to the maple trees providing comfortable shade over soft grass, to the gnarled, twisted, half dead oak trees that cast an ominous shadow over the shed. Only the lonely stone pathway dared entered these shadows up to the dusty shed. But on this particularly fine day, our protagonist was making his merry way to the shed. This was no ordinary man, and he was by no means a human. At first glance, he is like you and I. Two legs, two arms, two eyes, a nose and a mouth. A head of hair, clothes on his back, and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, showing his curious baby blue eyes. He was slightly tanned, and his arms rippled with the strength of an Olympic athlete. A human, you say. But alas, he is not. An immortal human you might call him. For as long as the nation of the United States of America stands, this man lives, for he is the representation of said nation. Yes, from the time Native Americans roamed the land, to the present day of which you and I live, he has existed and thrived. But even he, Mr. America, has his own dark tales. The man's name is Alfred Jones.

* * *

_Chapter 1: Shadows of a Feather_

A breeze scattered some papers lying loosely on a table, blowing them to the dusty wooden floor as the American entered the shed. "I wonder where I should try and start today…" Alfred muttered aloud. He had, on several occasions, tried to clean out this shed of useless junk that got shoved to the side after he found no further purpose for them. Some of them really _were_ useless junk items though. Socks without a partner, pool floats, childhood play toys, and many other things that had long since fallen by the wayside. Alfred had no problem generously donating these things to Goodwill though. It was those items with a history to them he had difficulty discarding.

Previously he had found a suit from colonial times, sparking memories of him and his former caretaker, Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England, representation of the United Kingdom. Toy soldiers also brought up that time he was a small child, a young country, which Arthur had made for him with individual personalities each. And then there was that gun he used during the American Revolution… It was that item on that day which caused him to turn away the rest of the proclaimed 'cleaning day'. And here he stood, a few decades later, ready to try again. Cleaning out this shed was a very emotional task indeed.

Alfred wandered over to the corner of the room, where a broom a dustpan leaned against the wall. "Perhaps I'll start with dusting today." And with that, the blond began to sweep up the wooden floor. He hummed his national anthem to himself as he worked peacefully, not having a care in the world for once in a blue moon. However, after about an hour of sweeping and dusting, he grew bored. Long since haven opened the window to let some sunshine and fresh air in. The birds that had previously been chirping stopped their sweet tunes as dark storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Alfred hadn't noticed this, being the semi-oblivious person he was.

He swept his way across the room, bumping the table with his hip accidentally. Well…it was actually more than just a bump. The table was the kind with the wooden top and foldable metal legs. One side of the table collapsed at the nudge, the contents scattering everywhere. Alfred cursed his luck as he leaned the broom against the wall and stooped over to pick up the papers and other small trinkets. Among the papers was an old wooden box filled with various accessories he had been given as gifts. His cross, an old pair of dog tags, piercings from his 'delinquent' years, and a small red maple leaf on a thin silver thread from…uh…who was it again? Alfred couldn't remember. Nonetheless, he tossed these items back in the handmade box carelessly. He was about to throw the last item in when he paused, holding it up to his face to examine it more carefully.

Dust lined the black and white feather of a bald eagle. The feather was attached to a rectangular turquoise rock with two spherical red pebbles on both sides of the turquoise rock, and they were strung up on a thin fragment of an animal carcass. Alfred gazed at it for a long time, grief flooding his eyes as he stroked the feather. "I miss you Mama…" He uttered. Suddenly, a flash of fight crossed his vision and he became unaware of his surroundings.

_It was a bright, cloudless day. The silhouette of a woman in a Native American Lakota tribe outfit stood at the top of a hill at sunrise, holding the hand of another young child. The two were standing under an apple tree, chatting. As Alfred moved forward in his daydream, the two figures turned and waved to him, beckoning him over in their native tongue. "Alfred." The woman cooed and embraced him. "Alfred!" The child grinned and hugged his leg. As the sun began to rise, their faces filled in with more detail._

"_O-oh! Mama!" Alfred gasped and staggered backwards a bit in astonishment._

"Alfred!"_ a sharper voice not of his daydream…memory?_

_The vision began to get fuzzy around the edges, fading into white nothingness. "N-no! Mama, come back! I don't want to lose you again!"_

"Alfred Jones I swear if you don't get up this instant!" The American was snapped back to reality by an angry sounding English accented voice. He opened his eyes, rubbing his head. When had he collapsed to the floor? "Thank god you're okay. Git, you had me worried!"

"Oh…hey Iggy." Alfred replied, smiling brightly, "When did you get here?"

Arthur let go of him and stood up, "Not too long ago. One of your servants said you'd be out here and I came out here to you on the ground. You pick the oddest places and times to take naps. What happened anyway?"

Alfred shrugged and helped himself up, brushing some dust off his shirt. "I dunno. I just picked up my mother's old necklace and then there you were."

Arthur pressed the back of his hand to Alfred's forehead. "You're warm; dehydration most likely. Ah well, come along chap. I'll see to that you get some water." The short Englishman bustled around the piles of junk and started closing up the windows and drawing the curtains and blinds shut again. Alfred smiled to himself as he watched his former caretaker hustled around. The man was short and had blond hair that never seemed to be combed. He had a fiery temper and Alfred though he was a psycho because he talked to imaginary friends. Arthur Kirkland was a nation, just like himself – the nation of England. Though Arthur's brothers, Caley, Owen, and Alastair, didn't want to deal with bothersome nations at World Summits and massive piles of paperwork, so in a way, Arthur also represented the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Arthur also had very nice eyes, Alfred noted. They were as bright and magnificent as emeralds – the same color as an emerald too. But his eyebrows were _huge_ and that was no understatement. Alfred often swore that there were wooly caterpillars growing on Arthur's face. Despite his temper and constant spirals into depression, Arthur was a pretty good guy with nice things to his personality. He was the type who knew how to treat a woman well and took shit from others without a word (though he would be plotting their bloody murder from the safety of his mind). The Briton usually fussed over his colonies and former colonies like a mother hen and his cooking was terrible. Where was Alfred going with this again? He couldn't remember.

"Alfred! Come ON!" Speak of the devil. Arthur was already squawking at him in the usual irritated manner. Alfred sighed and carefully placed the necklace in his pocket before following after Arthur. Immediately upon stepping outside, he was blasted in the face with a strong gust of wind from the approaching storm. The sky was a dark grey, looking as if it would pour down by the bucket loads at any given second now. That was when a raindrop hit Alfred's nose. He wiped it off before closing and locking the shed's door, then trotting after Arthur, who was already on the front porch. Arthur tapped his foot impatiently as the American took his sweet time getting there.

"I ought to stand in the pouring rain for a while then come inside and shake like a dog just to get you and your British ass wet," Alfred laughed and ushered a scowling Englishman inside. "Make yourself at home as always. So what did you come for anyway, dude?"

Arthur wandered into the kitchen and began snooping around Alfred's cabinets and closets of food looking for ingredients for his precious tea. He seemed as if he wasn't going to be saying anything more until he got it so Alfred reached into a drawer and pulled out a tea bag. Arthur gave a brief nod of acknowledgement before taking out the other necessary tea ingredients, thus proceeded to set it on the kettle. It was after the tea was done he took his little plate and teacup to the den and settled in an armchair. Alfred joined him in the den, switching on the lights and flopping onto the couch, turning on the TV.

"I came to discuss the relations between Britain and America. Things have been very unsettling recently since one of your demonic- ah, I mean, _presidential candidate_, insulted us in our very own homes. My people are not satisfied and some nations are starting to think you don't care about your responsibilities as a nation anymore. You haven't been to any of the Summit meetings since-"Alfred decided to drone out Arthur as he went into lecture mode.

_Why did I have that strong memory of Mama? Was it just her necklace that triggered it? What was that…? Can I even call it a memory? I don't remember that ever happening and my name wasn't 'Alfred' when Mama was still alive. It felt more like a reality. I heard the birds so clearly and the wind felt nice and cool on my face…and I was taller than Mama and that boy she was with. Who was that boy anyway? It couldn't be me… Oh my gosh that so freaky! If that was me at a younger age then why don't I remember it at least from that point of view?! _

_**WHACK. **_"Ouch!" Alfred yelped, covering his now stinging cheek with his hand. "What the hell was that for?!"

"I knew it. You weren't paying attention anyway." Arthur scowled and stood up, sliding into his coat. "Well if you ever need something, you know where I am. But it's not like you'd _ever_ need _my_ help."

"Dude you're acting like a total jerk right now! You never get this mad at me for not listening. Nobody listens when you drone on at meetings. What's up with you today, old man? On your period?" Alfred laughed at his own joke.

"Males don't have periods, git. It isn't just this one thing that has me pissed off. All this shit you do just adds up to the point I can't stand it anymore and everything you do is just so annoying! So sod off and if your arse isn't at the Baltimore Summit meeting tomorrow I will personally skin you. It is the duty of a country to attend Summit meetings, _especially_ if they're the hosting nation. Which is you. A lot of countries came ahead of time so they wouldn't suffer jet lag and I know some of them needed to talk to you ahead of time but they couldn't get ahold of you." Arthur snarled, walking to the door.

"Vlad never shows up to the meetings and I don't ever see or hear anybody lecturing him…" Alfred pouted.

"Because nobody gives a shit about the vampire; nobody wantsa_ leech_ sitting next to them. _You_, on the other hand, are the world power. You brush it off like it's nothing. If that good for nothing Mitt Romney fellow becomes your President, you're practically calling it quits. That's like saying 'Oh hey everybody! Let's start a third World War!' God Alfred! I'm your closest ally and when you piss off your closest ally, you are officially screwed. And you just let this Romney go around and insult other nations like Russia, China, and France. See? You've pretty much taken everything the five of us have been through in World War II and shove it right back in our faces like it never even happened.

"It wouldn't surprise me if Yao started making you pay more and force your debt into the 20 trillion ranges. And if Ivan and Francis decide to nuke your ass, don't expect me to help. Someday, Alfred, you're just going to screw up everything so badly that nobody is going help you." Arthur was outside the door now, "Good. Day." Alfred flinched when the door slammed shut. He wandered over to the window and watched the Briton storm away in a huff, not caring about the rain that was soaking him to the bone.

"Ugh… What am I doing wrong?" Alfred let his head hit the glass. A soft 'meow' from behind him made him turn and smile softly. His cat was standing there, looking concerned. "Where's your brother Freedom?" He asked the white cats with a poofy black mane and tail. The tom cat meowed again before bouncing over to the fireplace, glomping his older littermate. The other cat hissed angrily. The second cat was a grey tabby with deep navy blue eyes and a lighter grey chest and belly. On the upper part of his front legs on both sides, his stripes were in the form of an X with a star in the center of it. Funny how nature works sometimes.

Alfred sat down next to them, Freedom instantly scrambling onto his lap. "You're putting on some more weight boy." Alfred teased, rubbing the white cat's ears. Freedom swatted his hand gently and purred in satisfaction. Freedom cast his brother a smug look, which Alfred caught and poked the side of his belly, "Be nice to Liberty, chubby." Freedom mewed in dismay at being called 'chubby' and simply rolled onto his back. Liberty flicked his tail and gave Alfred a look that screamed 'Like you have room to be talking'. Alfred sighed again and laid back. Liberty stood, then walked over and started nosing through Alfred's pocket, retrieving the necklace and dragging it around to Alfred's face.

Freedom saw the feather and pounced on it, thinking it was a toy. "No! Don't!" Alfred scolded and tapped Freedom's nose, making the cat recoil and shoot him a frightened look. The American sighed and held up the feather adorned necklace. "Oh Mama…you said you'd always be there for me but you aren't here now… It was easier when I was a kid and there wasn't any political tensions or troubles to worry about except how to catch our next meal…" Alfred turned on his side, facing the wall. His pets scrambled over him to lie beside him.

"Shhh…my darling its okay," a gentle female voice spoke. Alfred tensed when Liberty hissed and Freedom cowered behind his brother. Something removed his glasses from his face and it took everything in him not the screech like a little girl. "Why don't you rest, darling? You have a big day ahead of you." Alfred was finding it hard to force himself to calm down. In a single, swift motion, he had whipped around in a sitting position to face the voice but once his back was against the wall, he found himself staring at one of his plants. He blindly reached for the fireplace poker, still glancing around nervously. Liberty was still hissing in a threatening way, fur bushed out to look twice his normally small size.

Alfred finally found the fireplace poker and gripped it tightly, standing up and holding it like a spear, ready to stab anything abnormal to him. He gingerly made it to the kitchen and flipped on the lights, whipping around to survey the room, but finding nothing out of place. After checking the entire downstairs of his home (which took a while, mind you), he let himself relax. "S-silly ghosts! They can't scare the hero! R-right, Freedom? Liberty?" The cats mewed.

"Who said I was a_ wanagi_, darling? How do you know who you're talking to?" Came the voice again, from behind Alfred. He whipped around to a shadow darting just out of his sight. The voice came from elsewhere in the room, "I could be a demon, darling." Again Alfred spins around, thrusting the fireplace poker forwards, only catching a wisp of shadow. He backs up to a corner of the room, surveying the entire kitchen. He watches the shadow and its wisps slither across the linoleum floor. He jabs at it when it comes to a stop in front of him. "That didn't hurt, dear," the shadow spoke before coming up from the ground taking a more three dimensional form.

"M-Mama?" Alfred stammered, nearly dropping his temporary weapon. The shadow gives him a gently smile. Alfred presses further back against the wall, shrinking into his socks. "D-dude…not cool; my mom is dead… And she's not some dark demonic looking shadow thing that seems as if it just came straight from that Harry Potter movie! Ugh…what was it called again…? Dementor! Yeah! Are you one of those?!" Alfred started to become seriously frightened, "Don't kill me! I didn't do anything! And if did I'm really sorry!"

The…thing, whatever it was, put her finger to Alfred's lips. He shivered out of fear. "You talk too much, darling. Come and rest, you are tired. How are you sure you aren't dreaming right now?" Alfred stared at the spirit doubtfully but allowed her to take him back to the couch and lay him down. He was surprised as this spirit unfolded his blanket and laid it over him, and began softly singing a lullaby in his very first language – Native American Lakota style.

"But Mama…I don't want to lose you again…" the blond yawned as he snuggled under the sweet smelling quilt. This, somehow, smelled like Arthur; tea, roses, and all. Alfred eventually drifted off into inky blackness. But what seemed a few minutes, he was awake, but completely blind. He could see himself but his surroundings were entirely black. Blank. He felt the ground under him slide out from under him like sand and he fell backwards. Expecting to hit what was under him, he braced himself for a slight jolt of pain but felt nothing. It was like he was falling. Falling through endless time and space. He wasn't prepared for it when he smashed into black and red checkered flooring. "Ugh…" Alfred sat up and rubbed his head, which has hit the floor first.

A royal white carpet with gold stitching was rolled out, ending at a royal looking throne. Just like the shadow…spirit? Whatever! Just as the creature that impersonated his mother had morphed around, another creature came into view at that throne. Alfred got up and walked over to it. The creature strangely enough took the form of Arthur, but in much more royal in appearance than the proper Brit. "Excuse me, do you know where I am?"

"You dare ask a question before you bow to your king?" the creature growled, snapping his fingers and some unknown force pushed Alfred down to his hands and knees. "Better," the creature smirked, satisfied. Alfred growled inaudibly, being forced to stare at the carpet. He was allowed to look up when the creature pretending to be his mother came into view besides this…king. He watched and strained to hear them as they exchanged word. He heard it after trying hard enough, but it was a language he didn't know, and he knew a wide variety of languages. The kingly creature gazed down at him, "Tell me, boy," he sneered, "Who are you?"

Alfred snarled and looked up at him uncomfortably, "As if I should tell the likes of you. I don't even know you!"

"That's how you make friends, child," the king purred. He waved his hand dismissively, "Ah well. Usually I like to know the name of the soul about to flounder and die."

"D-die!?" Alfred squeaked in a very unmanly way. The king simply nods and faster than Alfred could blink, _it_ was upon him.

* * *

**AN:/** IDK about this, I posted it on deviantART and didn't get much love. So I'm posting this here and seeing where it goes from here on out. What do you guys think? Should I continue this or not? If its continued the rating may go up due to violence - just sayin' So uh...some more warning for this story...

There is planned character death, possible multi-pairings (America X World basically...maybe...still debating), time looping, supernatural beings (ghosts, monsters, etc.), lots and lots of OOC goodness, and best of all, notice for underappareciated characters (Romania, Norway, etc.).

Flames will be used to roast marshmallows~

It feels so rushed! Ahhh! I confused myself at a few points too. Oops. Please don't tell me Arthur is OOC, I know he is but it could be part of the plot gais. You will not know until chapters are released. Uhm...I forgot to mention this last chapter, but I'm really not good at finishing things. All my other chapter stories have been dicontinued so if I ever finish a chaptered story more than 5 chapters long, that's going to be an achievement for me. After the 4th or 5th chapter of something I'm writing, I usually lose interest so yeah... But anyway, I hope you like this chapter! Faves, reviews, and critiques are appretiated! :D

Love, Alex

EDIT: Removed the prologue and simply put it onto the beginning of chapter 1. It was throwing the numbering system off and I didn't like it. Chapter names now correspond with chapter number. Before it would be _2. Chapter 1 _now it's correct and _1. Chapter 1_ The rest of the story remains the same and has only been bumped down to the appropriate level.


	2. Chapter 2: Evil Angel

_Chapter 2: Evil Angel_

"Hey. Knock it off," a voice spoke quietly, but had a ring of authority to it. The creature seized its approach on the American and stepped down from his power. Who really ran this place? Whoever it was released Alfred from the pressure he was being restrained by.

The creature hissed an apology, "My dear leader, I did not mean to offend thee…"

"It is not your place on deciding who to feed from. You answer to Him, and you answer to me. You may be of high power and respect, but you are not a ruler of this place. This is not your first offense, and if I need warn you again you will be stripped of your rank. Understood?" the newcomer growled in an assertive voice. Alfred watched the impersonators of his mother and Arthur nodded and faded into shadows on the ground, slithering away.

Alfred turned around to face his savior, stunned by what he saw. Jet black hair cut in a style similar to his own and also had lone cowlick extending from his head like Alfred. He was dressed in a black suit with red under it and rounded glasses. Though Alfred could not tell what colour his eyes were, as they were shaded over by his hair. The most stunning feature of this newcomer, however, was his black wings. They were the same as a seraph's, or an angel's wings even. Such pristine wings they were, too. The newcomer was shorter than Alfred but the American could tell there were muscles lined under the suit. But nonetheless, the black angel wings confused him to no end.

"Hey, thanks for that." Alfred walked over to him. The stranger simply nodded. "So what the heck are they anyway? Ghosts or demons or what?"

"They're kitsunes." He replied. Alfred took careful note of his accent, which sounded like an older fashion of southern United States.

"Oh… What's a kitsune?" Alfred asked.

"A kitsune is a mythological Japanese creature. It's fox like in appearance in its natural form, and they're known to have up to nine tails. They usually travel in packs like wolves, though, and they hate dogs. These creatures are known to shapeshift into humans to allure them and drive their target to the brink of insanity. Somehow, kitsune have the ability to fly, become invisible, and even generate fire or electricity. They're extremely intelligent and are sneaky, devious little tricksters." The black winged creature turned and started walking off, beckoning to Alfred to follow.

Alfred jogged up to walk beside him, "So what and who are you? And why are those kitsune creatures after me anyway?"

The winged one sighed, "Oh you have such an ever curious mind. Tell me; are you either insanely dumb or insanely hungry for knowledge?" Alfred opened his mouth to reply but was hushed. "Rhetorical question, don't answer that. I can't inform you why they're targeting you, though. But I can tell you that I'm an angel and further identity is not crucial for you to know."

There was not a single silent moment after that. The more questions the angel answered, the more questions Alfred spouted. The angel was determined to make him shut up after a while and even tried ignoring him, but even that didn't work. Ah humans, ever so curious with such a perplexed train of thoughts. True, knowledge was the key to success, but the angel also found that knowledge was the key to ultimate doom and potentially, strong power. At one point, the angel wondered why he had even bothered sparing the immortal human – he was destined to never die unless his country fell anyway.

And the angel knew this feeling too. The feeling of your entire country collapsing, being reduced to nothing, then forcefully taken by the enemy that was vowed to be protected from. He sighed in remembrance. The screams of his people would forever ring in his ears as a constant reminder he failed to do his duty as a nation. The scar across his heart was a pain he could never forget – the wound that had ultimately slayed him.

It was the wound that had been inflicted by his own brother. Even as an angel the vivid memory haunted him. His thoughts suddenly scattered like a school of frightened fish. They were at the bridge that connected the spiritual world to the real world, a place he could not bear to return to. "Cross this bridge and you'll end up back in your universe. You aren't really here, your spirit is. The kitsune simply stole your spirit away from your body and brought you here. When you cross over, nobody is going to see or hear you except for other spiritual beings. You'll need to navigate back to your body in order to completely cross back over to your realm."

"Oh… I still really want to know your name though. After all, you did help me…" Alfred frowned.

"There's no time for that Jones. You need to get back as soon as you can. The longer your spirit is away from your body, the more vulnerable you become to future attacks. Remember this – you are at your weakest when a strong memory is triggered." The angel turned, spread his wings, and flew off; back into the inky blackness. Alfred sighed unhappily before beginning to trek across the bridge.

* * *

It was a good few hours before Alfred managed his way back to his body. And even then, he didn't know what to do when he found himself. He just sighed and sat down, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Arthur was stooped over him with a worried expression. Alfred propped himself up on his elbows and looked around blearily. He recognized that he was back in his shed, the feather of his mother's necklace in one hand and Arthur holding his other hand. "Arthur… Is that you, the real you?"

"Of course it's the real me you git; the one and only me!" The Briton fumed, though his face was a picture of worry. "I demand you explain to me why you were zonked out on the floor of this miserable shed!"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you…" Alfred grumbled, but began nonetheless. "So there's these freaky things called kitsune that are coming after me and they stole my spirit from my body and took me to a really dark place where the kitsune that took your form tried to, uh, eat my soul I think it was, and then this angel came out of nowhere and saved me and lead me back to the bridge that connects the spirit world and reality." He puffed out in one breath before quickly adding, "And this angel was really weird, he had black wings and was dressed in black and red."

Arthur stared at him bug-eyed for a moment before chuckling and rubbing a swollen spot on the back of Alfred's head, "You're letting your imagination run away with your heart. Such vivid dreams, Alfred; tell me another story won't you?"

"No! I'm serious!" The American wailed in protest.

"Oh really; then why don't you tell me about your precious guardian angel's name." The retort was short and tart, but stung.

"He didn't tell me his name because he believed that it wasn't important for me to know it." Alfred went on to describe the angel's appearance in greater detail.

"So explain to me what he was like personality wise and when exactly you saw him," Arthur stated, suddenly seeming interested.

Alfred thought a little harder, "Well…he was really stubborn and seemed like he couldn't deal with me for another minute and he looked pretty upset that he had saved me and had to deal with all my questions for him. Hmmm…he showed up right before that thing tried to eat me but he was really stone faced and he smelled like death and roses."

"Roses?" Arthur echoed.

"Well that was what I remember the finest. I remember a lot of other scents when I concentrate hard enough. Lilac, daffodil, pine, lavender, tulip, roses… Mostly like flowers and trees. Here was a faint trace of ocean smell too." Alfred nodded in agreement to what he was saying.

"Well if what you're saying is correct, then he might be your guardian angel…or an angel of death. Perhaps even a fallen angel. Guardian angels are said to appear only before death or a horrible event. Death angels are just as they sound; they bring or prevent death. Fallen angels are just lost souls who have left or been exiled from Paradise…" Arthur replied, trying to get Alfred to slowly stand up.

Alfred bounced to his feet, staggering a bit and holding his head where he had hit it. As Arthur walked him back to the house, his mind whirled with his thoughts going a million miles an hour. What had exactly happened? Alfred retraced the events. He had knocked over the box – check. Leaned down to pick up and put the contents back in the box – check. Strong memory of his mother – check. Then what? Had the kitsune preying on him attacked him, and then he passed out? Or was it the other way around? Had he passed out and then the kitsune attacked him then? Argh! This was so frustrating! Arthur noticed his usually never-serious friend deep in thought and said nothing, simply taking him inside and laying Alfred down on the couch.

Arthur went around the corner into the kitchen and began preparing the coffee that Alfred loved so much, even though Arthur himself was not a huge fan of the stuff. After making the coffee and adding some creamer and sugar, Arthur grabbed some aspirin and an ice pack wrapped in a towel and took everything out to Alfred. He gently lifted the American's head and rested it on the ice pack, setting the coffee and aspirin on the small table beside the couch. "You should sleep or at least have a nap; thinking about it will make things worse and give you a headache."

"I'm too scared to sleep, Artie. What if those things attack me again?" Alfred whimpered in a cowardly manner.

"If you're half the hero you claim to be, Alfred, then you should have no problems defeating the bad guys." Arthur smirked and earned a punch to his shoulder. "Besides. Your guardian angel will be there to defend you."

"Heroes don't need angels!" Alfred protested.

"No, maybe not. But sometimes, even heroes need a hero." With that, Arthur removed Alfred's glasses and set them on the coffee table, softly humming in the process. Eventually, Alfred began slipping into sleep again; though he had no intentions of it…

* * *

Sleep over the next few nights were troublesome and hard to find. Alfred kept waking up from his dark, twisted, haunted dreams. The problem was it was the same dream every night; and every time he opened his eyes in hope of finding peace. By now it had been a week and the World Summit meeting in Baltimore went on as planned. Unfortunately for Alfred, he had decided on _not_ sleeping for three days straight, staggering into the meeting rather disheveled. He had circles around his eyes, glasses askew, a bed head, and his suit was thrown on in a rather sloppy manner. Despite being the host nation, Alfred was the last one there.

The American plodded over to his seat at the head of the table, lacking his usual enthusiasm and high spirits. Just as Alfred was about to sit down, somebody jerked the chair away from him and he landed on the floor, earning a fit of laughter from other nations. He scowled and inwardly cursed them, getting up and promptly sitting in his chair. It was at that very moment that Ludwig, nation of Germany, decided to lecture and scold the American for turning up late and not having a nicer appearance. The tall blond had his hair slicked back in its usual fashion, baby blue eyes burning intensely. Alfred simply snarled at him, giving the German his best "Fuck off" look. Thought Ludwig didn't seem to catch on until a bright little Italian, Veniziano, changed the subject.

Veniziano was a cheerful, happy-go-lucky, nation with bright auburn hair, a single curl branching off the left side of his head and gold-ish brown eyes; even though he usually kept them closed (Alfred often found himself wondering how the Italian could see). He was often labeled as a coward, running to Ludwig for help all the time. Veniziano represented north Italy, and his older brother Lovino represented the southern portion of Italy. Lovino was nothing like Veniziano, however. The south Italy representation had dark auburn, almost brown, hair cut in the same way as Veniziano, but his curl branched off the right side of his head. Lovino had a fiery personality and was always angry, cranky, and as stubborn and lazy as an ox.

On a normal occasion, the overzealous Italian would cheer him up but seeing the two twins together just stabbed Alfred with a pang of regret. The past three sleepless nights had been pure torture to Alfred. The American had stayed up pondering why and how things worked, and as a result, he was both mentally and physically exhausted. He was afraid of ghosts but never the darkness; and now he feared anything that could possibly go bump in the night. Not so much the darkness itself, but what was hiding _in_ the darkness. Either way, seeing the twins together reminded him too much of his own brother.

"Great. Something else to lose sleep over…" Alfred grumbled as the thought of his brother crossed his mind. Arthur, who was sitting next to him, nudged Alfred's shoulder, jerking the blond back to reality. Alfred blinked stupidly and stared at the other nations, earning some more snickers, before he realized it was his turn to speak and stood up embarrassed, beginning his report. As always, he brought up something ridiculous about superheroes saving the earth, being ignored by most nations, but their attention turned to him sharply when he started spouting serious solutions to serious problems of the world. He gave everyone a final glare when he was finished and sat down.

Nations gave each other mixes of frightened and impressed looks, some muttering how he'd finally hit the adulthood part of puberty and others saying it was a sign he was going insane. With his turn having come and passed, Alfred slumped in his chair and began to rethink things, a serious expression on his face and his eyes turned glassy as he began to ponder deeply. He had been so focused on what was hunting him earlier but now he found himself thinking about his lost brother.

_The dark blonde haired male glared at his younger brother through narrowed dark blue eyes, filled with hatred. His grey uniform was torn in places and soaked in so much blood in other places that it clung to his skin. Rain pattered down on the muddy battlefield, drenching the two men. The Confederate soldier was at the Union soldier's mercy, a gun being held to his head as he was forced to his knees. Oh if only looks could kill, then, then this soldier's brother would be dead hundreds of times over. But no, looks did not kill. And the older brother's life was in the hands of Alfred F. Jones. The Confederate soldier stared at the ground furiously. Where had he gone wrong?_

_"Look up at me," Alfred demanded. When his brother did not comply he cocked the gun and the revolver turned. "Don't you dare think I won't shoot you."_

_"Then what's stopping you?" the weakened soldier challenged, not looking up. The butterscotch hair coloured man did not have an immediate reply and just stood there silently. "You're too weak to kill me."_

_"No," Alfred frowned, narrowing his sky blue eyes, "I'm strong enough not to." The gun fell from the elder brother's head as Alfred let his arm lie at his side. The elder sibling looked up at the United States of America, confused. His gaze was met with a cold glare from the rising world superpower. "What have you become? Some savage beast of sorts is what." He turned and started to leave._

_Just then, the Confederate States of America lunged forward, unsheathing his sword from its protective sheath and raised it above to strike Alfred down, and the sound of metal clashing with metal filled the dreary air, which now spiked with tension as Alfred unsheathed his own sword in defense. The two brothers fought in the drizzle and struggled to get a firm fighting stance in the mud as they slid and skidded everywhere except where they wanted. The grey clad thrust the sword at Alfred's left side and Alfred swiftly dodged to the right, and with an incredibly aimed blow, slashed open the rebel's upper left arm._

_There was a splatter as the southern American's sword hit the soggy ground and he tried to cover the wound, but the gash was too deep and wide. His blood spilled over and stained the ground, making the puddles a vibrant red. Alfred seized the moment and tackled his older brother to the ground, a knee firmly planted on the other's chest. The Confederate soldier writhed in pain and struggled to get up, but Alfred had him pinned tightly to the ground on his back. Alfred removed a blade from a pocket on the interior of his uniform, and a vial shortly followed. Carefully, the liquid in the vial was poured over the blade._

_"No..." he breathed, "Surely that isn't what I think it is! Alfred! You're crazy!"_

_Alfred was thankful for the rain, for it was disguising his tears. "If you're thinking it's the only poison in the world that can permanently kill a nation, then you're right." Dark blue eyes danced with fear and he struggled harder to break free. Alfred held the handle of the knife in his teeth as he strained to grasp both of his brother's hands in one of his. And in finally managing to succeed, them above his head pinned to the bloody ground. "I'm so sorry..." Alfred whispered, closing his eyes and swinging the knife down, swift and hard._

_"ALFRED!" the Confederate screeched as the blade struck his heart and he gasped out. Alfred twisted and yanked the blade out of his brother's chest in the most painful way he could and stood up, too pained to watch. The Confederate hissed and clasped his hands over his chest, gasping for air. And as the minutes ticked on, he became stiller and stiller, until there was no movement or sounds emitted from him at all. The Confederate States of America had fallen._

And just as Alfred's memory of his deceased brother ended, he collapsed. Several nations panicked and somebody yelled to dial an emergency number. Minutes later a special ambulance arrived, Arthur hopping in with them. The doctors on board checked him over, saying how he was deprived of sleep, dehydrated, and likely hadn't eaten for a few days. Upon arrival at the hospital, Arthur was instructed to wait outside the room. The Briton paced in the waiting room worried sick, not even bothering to acknowledge when Francis and Matthew arrived.

Francis represented the nation of France. He had bright azul eyes and wavy blond hair. The Frenchman was a flirt, arrogant, and always bragged about what a great lover he was. Although he often spoke of love and flirted and inappropriately touched other nations, he never forced love onto anybody. Some nations said he never learned how to love properly, but others knew how much he could love and what he was capable of in a relationship. Most would think it's all sex and nothing else but truth be told, Francis Bonnefoy was a compassionate, caring lover. He always looked out for the safety of his partner and never did anything that would make his partner uncomfortable. Francis had helped Arthur raise Alfred when the American was a young nation and a child at that.

Matthew Williams, although Alfred's brother, was nothing like Alfred. He was the personification of Canada. Matthew was a quiet, reserved, shy nation most of the time, but could turn aggressive depending on the situation. Matthew was hardly ever noticed by the other nations, living in the shadow of Alfred; but when he was seen, he was mistaken for being Alfred. The 'brothers' were hardly similar in appearance. Alfred was a sunny blond and Matthew was more of a creamy blond with longer hair than Alfred. The Canadian also had a single curl with a loop extending from just behind his bangs while Alfred had an obnoxious cowlick. And whilst they both had glasses, Alfred had sky blue eyes and Matthew had somewhere between indigo and dark violet eyes.

An hour passed as the three sat together waiting impatiently and concerned for Alfred's wellbeing. A nurse came out and lead them to a private room where the doctor was waiting. The nurse left, closing the door behind her and the strange family sat on the couch opposite the doctor.

"Good evening I'm Doctor Shah," the doctor smiled softly and shook hands with the three, almost missing Matthew. "I assume you're relatives or close friends of Mr. Jones?" The three of them nodded and Doctor Shah continued, "Alfred is in the intensive care unit right now with a coma-"

"Coma!" Arthur exclaimed, "How?!"

"Please sir, calm down," the doctor warned. Francis gently put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and the Briton huffed, but allowed himself to lean back on the couch. "We think he's got a brain tumor or some form of brain cancer and we're doing what we need to do to find out but we aren't exactly sure yet. One of our staff directors suggested he may be suffering from a mental illness."

"Alfred is a perfectly healthy individual. Sure he's almost on a strictly hamburger diet and has a lot of stress but he isn't mental." Francis frowned in disagreement. The doctor simply sighed and gave a small, comforting smile before standing up and leaving the room. "And even if it was a brain tumor or cancer, he would not die from it like a human would." Francis huffed after the doctor shut the door.

* * *

Alfred opened his eyes to a familiar scene. He was sitting on a black and red checker board pattern floor again, a long carpet that lead to a regal throne, though nobody was sitting in it now. Alfred stood up, starting to head in the direction he remembered would take him home to reality when a blood curling screech came from the edges of darkness. Alfred shivered but decided to take it upon himself to save whoever was in trouble. Abandoning his pathway home, he ran in the direction of the sound and was confronted with only a door between him and a victim. Alfred quietly cracked the door open just enough so he could see.

His black winged angel was standing beside a coffin with a body in it, the victim inside letting out frightened wails and her body twitched as if she were being tortured. She managed to pant out something in a ragged breath, "H-help me…y-you're an angel right? Help me! Help me, please! Make them stop!" Alfred was confused; there was nobody else in the room but the two of them. Who could she be talking about?

"Shhh... Your suffering will be over soon, child." The darker themed angelic figure pressed a finger to her lips and walked to her side, beginning to bless the poor soul and marking her forehead with ashes. The angel gently stroked her cheek and whispered something to her that Alfred did not catch. Moments later, she fell quiet and her body stopped twitching. The angel then closed her eyes and straightened her clothing out, folded her arms over her chest and placing a single black rose under her arms across the chest. She looked so peaceful, as if merely sleeping. The angel continued as if it was a funeral and he closed the casket, and then blew out a candle.

The room had a black and white checker pattern floor, the walls were dark grey with black designs, a dark red rug with golden embroidery under the stand where the coffin was now closed and several candlesticks were lit around the room. If Alfred were to guess, he'd say there were a few thousand; a few hundred were not lit for some peculiar reason. Black roses were alive and set up in vases all around the room and on the opposite side of the room there was another door. The angel then set the coffin on something with wheels and opened the opposite door, then shoved the coffin through the door into a room with another creature in it and closed the door.

He pulled out an old fashioned golden pocket watch and sighed, "Alfred, it is rude to stand in doorways." Alfred flinched when he heard his name called but walked over to the angel abashed. "Since you sat through all of that, you may as well learn more about me. I've time to spare. Sit."

Alfred looked around before bluntly stating, "There's nowhere to sit but that coffin."

"Fine then. You can stand." The angel retorted and Alfred sulked, going over o the coffin and closing the lid before springing up onto the top of it. The angel raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, "Did you really think I was going to lock you in a coffin?" Alfred simply snorted and nodded a 'yes', earning an eye roll from the angel. "Of course I told you last time that I am an angel, but now I'll be more specific and tell you I'm an angel of death. I prevent people I feel are worthy from dying or help people die gently unless otherwise directed."

"Otherwise directed?" Alfred blinked.

"Most of the time I am graced with passing people to the peaceful afterlife. The young woman you just saw was being raped on her way home from work; and unfortunately for her, her aggressor killed her. She lived a good life and according to her religion, she is worthy to go a safe haven in her afterlife. Sometimes though, a person does not deserve to go to a peaceful afterlife and those who will perish in the underworld will suffer a painful passing. Anyway, all these candles represent how many lives I've taken and how many I have yet to take until I can be free again. I have four more people to pass on before I can leave." He explained quietly.

Alfred gave him the confused look of a six year old, "Free?" The angel nodded and took off the black glove on his left hand, revealing a pentagram burned into the center of his palm. Alfred sucked in his breath as he examined it from his spot on the coffin, hopping off to get a better look. "Why? How? Who would do this to anybody?"

"A while ago I was murdered by my own brother on the battlefield. I had done nothing wrong according to my religion and passed to live a peaceful afterlife. I didn't like it in Paradise though. I wanted vengeance. I left Paradise to find my brother and make the rest of his existence a living hell but…satanic demons found me first… Angels aren't supposed to roam Earth and are usually punished when they return to Paradise if they left without permission. But other times…demonic creatures find a stray angel and decide to drag it down to hell… Apparently these demons that dwell here fancy angel blood, as it's a rare treat to them…

"I refused to go down without a fight and I narrowly missed escaping these demons before my master brought me down. He told me he liked my gusto and he wouldn't kill me. But…I was forced to stay here in exchange for living. Master threatened me with a second death if I didn't do if I was told. I valued my life so much that I did as told, but it took my master decades to break me… I refused to give in and bend to his will and I fought every step of the way… He branded me with a pentagram to show ownership. One night I escaped and fled back to Paradise. I don't know what I was thinking that night. I was not welcomed back in the way I expected. Everyone hated me because I had been branded with the Devil's sign and they exiled me back to earth, forcing me to become a rouge angel or more commonly known as a fallen angel.

"My master was furious when he found me wandering the streets of America. He dragged me back here and…he…he ripped my wings out with his claws. There was no pain relief or numbing or anything to dull the pain. I was wide awake when he shred my wings out all the way to the bones in my back. I remember I was screaming in agony and begging for him to stop but all he did was continue and taunt me, saying sickening things. That night he violated me in sickening ways, even going so far as to using one of my own wing bones… I don't remember much after that. I can only recall being violated anywhere I walked in this place by anybody who pleased for a long time. In the years after, my wings grew back because master must have done something. But they grew back the sickening black colour they are now." The angel sighed, "And now I live everyday regretting the choice I made centuries ago. When my master stripped me of my wings and violated me in every way possible that night….that was when he broke me. He crushed everything I had left in me and now I have no desire and lack the will to fight back anymore."

Alfred stared in awe at the creature. This poor angel had been through so much and Alfred had never heard of somebody with such a tragic story. He'd heard Francis' story of Jeanne and many stories of many countries older than himself, but this angel took tragedy to an entirely new level. The American was feeling nauseous and his head was spinning with this new knowledge. He was quiet for a while and he stood off to the side as the angel slid his glove back on and reopened the coffin, then walked over to a tall chestnut cabinet in one corner of the room. Alfred drew in his breath as the angel opened the doors to reveal several sharp objects, and shrinking back quite a bit when the death angel withdrew several sharp knives.

"And now you know too much. Forgive me, Alfred." The angel shifted the knives in his hand so all the pointed ends were facing the same way. And with a single hurl, all the knives came flying at Alfred.

* * *

**AN:/** And just like that, this story jumps from a K rating to a T rating. Wow. Uhm...that escalated quickly...Oops. Honestly I think that came from reading 'Master and Pet' by GBTiger. Go read GBTiger's stories. Now. But I wouldn't recommend them if you're like me and the thought of extremely graphic torture makes you want to puke. Like that story was so wonderfully written which is why I kept reading it. Oh also if you don't like FrUk, Spamano, or PruHun then don't read it either ^^; Otherwise, go wild! There's a sequel in progress for 'Master and Pet' now too~

Enough about how amazing that person is; what did you guys think about this chapter? I can guarantee that it's only going to get a lot worse from here on out...haha. You guys get a cliff hanger. Sorry for not updating faster ^^; Reviews are love~

Love, Alex


	3. Chapter 3: Someday

_Chapter 3: Someday_

As the knives came flying at the blond, Alfred screeched as he hit the floor, ducking under the knives. A sickening splatter came from behind Alfred and a harsh shriek of agony rippled through the room. Alfred gasped and scrambled away from the noise frantically, sitting by the angel's feet. The creature that had been stabbed lunged forward, the knives that had been thrown only nicked him slightly. The angel of death then withdrew a hidden knife from one of his inside suit pockets, the enemy also gripping a knife. Swift and stealthy as a fox, the angel knocked the knife from the other's hand, kicking him in the gut and sending him wheezing for air on the floor.

The newcomer had dark brown hair and a tanned skin tone, ruby eyes glaring coldly at the angel. Alfred shivered when the other human turned his gaze to him. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror that changed the colour of you. A twisted smile spread across his face as he sprang up, darting towards a petrified Alfred. The angel rammed into the dark haired human, stood up, and placed a firm foot on his chest. "Al, quit it. Don't make this anymore painful than it should be," the angel snarled in a cold voice.

"But I didn't do anything!" Alfred protested.

"He was talking to me, doofus. My name is Alfred too," the brown haired Alfred grinned cheekily. He gasped in shock and the blond Alfred flinched when there was the sound of splintering bone.

"Don't talk and stay put." The angel demanded, bustling to the opposite corner of the room to the cabinet once more and retrieving a pair of handcuffs and a handkerchief.

Al's smile only widened, "What are you, some kind of sadist?" Another sharp gasp as the angel easily snapped Al's right upper arm. Although the smirk remained on the brunette's face, Alfred could tell he was clearly suffering but trying to hold his own and show no weakness. The angel forced Al to his feet and the brunette swung a punch with his good arm, sending the angel's glasses clattering to the floor. What happened next was a blur. The angel grabbed Al's broken arm and hurled him into the air, then violently slammed him into the floor. Alfred flinched again as a few vases shook on their tables. Al moaned from his spot on the floor. "Is that the best you got?" He taunted.

"If you're trying to infuriate me then it won't work. I've dealt with all kinds of jokers like you before. You're no different, Al," the angel then tossed the brunette over his shoulder, strode over and dumped him in the coffin. Al snickered and threw some more taunts and jeers at the angel before he jet black haired male hissed in annoyance and forced the other's jaw open, effectively slicing the tongue until a thick red liquid filled the annoying brunette's mouth. "You'll be wise and not talk again or I cut off your tongue and you'll never speak again."

Al spat his coppery blood in the angel's face, and then took advantage of the angel's temporary blindness by pouncing on him and pinning him down. Al devilishly smirked as he held a knife to the angel's lips, "You wanna try fighting back, pretty boy?" He stroked the angel's black wings and the angel's only response was a growl.

That was when Alfred bowled his look-a-like over, knocking the knife from the opposite's hand. The angel took full advantage of this and whisked the knife off the floor, slashing the pulse point on the brunette's neck all in record time. By the time to angel had dragged the now dead body to the coffin, he was covered in the victim's blood. "Shame. I would have loved to torture you more…"

Alfred blinked in surprise as the angel sighed and began cleaning the blood off the body and his own outfit. "You didn't seem like the kind of person who would enjoy torturing others."

"I usually don't. The last time I got so frustrated with a Russian fellow that I ended up nearly gutting him. It was quite a mess to clean up afterwards. This American however," the angel motioned to the brunette, "Reminded me too much of somebody I knew that I despise." His navy blue eyes glazed over in hatred and remembrance. "It would've been nice to take out my anger on somebody that looked similar enough."

The rest of the ritual continued in silence as the angel worked. It was only after the closed coffin was pushed into the next room that silence was broken. Alfred asked very little questions this time as the angel began to lead him out of the room. By now, the long hallway appeared as nothing more but your average hallway with several rooms concealed by doors. "What's behind all those doors?" Alfred asked.

"Don't assume things, American, it's normal here just like a house. We have a kitchen, a den, and other basic rooms a house would have. Though this is not a house; it has no way in and out to those trapped here. You're a free spirit Alfred, and technically I am too. I can come and go places as I please. Though trust me, this is not a safe place and it is by no means a homely place." The angel simply sighed.

"Who else lives here besides you, then?" Alfred inquired.

"Oh the usual, we have demons and kitsune, werewolves and vampires, pretty much every 'evil' supernatural being," he shrugged.

"Any friends?"

"I tried not to make any at first, but then things happen, you know? Arthur and Francis aren't good company, but they're company."

Alfred nearly choked on his own spit, "Arthur and Francis?"

"Yeah. Arthur is just a really creepy individual who loves baking sweets to ends of the earth. He means well but…sometimes he just comes off as creepy. Don't ever let his pastries fool you though, the icing on his cupcakes are always pink and always have blood in them. Those pastries are also quite toxic to you, even though you aren't one hundred percent human. Francis on the other hand…we get along. He takes a more serious tone to things and he's pretty depressed. Often goes somewhere to take a smoke or gets wasted to try and forget his miserable past. They make quite the unlikely pair, those two…" the angel chuckled softly.

"Well what about you? Do _you_ have a significant other?" Alfred asked.

The angel stopped walking abruptly, sorrow hanging over his head like a grey cloud. "I… No. There's no way he could still have feelings for me." The angel shook his head, misery clearing up as he picked up a fast walking pace again, "I don't care to find somebody to settle down with. Never. Never again."

"What happened t-" Alfred was cut off as the angel whipped around, hoisted Alfred off the ground with a hand to his throat. "G-got it…. D-don't…ask!" Alfred choked, gasping for air. The angel set him down gently and nodded, then continued walking.

"Oh Liberty, darling~" a cheerful voice called out in an English accent.

"Uh…who was that?" Alfred asked.

"Don't turn around. Keep walking forward and show no sign that you acknowledge him." The angel hissed, grabbing Alfred's wrist and yanking him harshly.

"It isn't very nice to run away!" A stranger popped up in front of the angel, who sighed in irritation. "Oh? Who's the new kid?" The peculiar Englishman scooted around the angel's attempt at a block to get a better look at Alfred. "Hello, love~!"

"Arthur," the angel growled in a warning voice, "Mine."

The 'Arthur' blinked and for a second his smile dropped before being replaced with a huge grin, "Awww did you finally find a partner? Or is this a prisoner you caught? And I told you to call me Oliver! Silly boy!"

"Right. Now if you'll excuse me, I have important matters to tend to," the angel jerked Alfred forwards again.

"If you're going to the bridge, it's out of order," Oliver called after him. The angel stopped dead in his tracks before turning and giving Oliver a glare. "It's only until tonight though! You can wait seven hours, can't you?" Oliver cut off the next thing that was starting to leave the angel's mouth, "We'd love you have you both for dinner!"

Alfred gulped nervously before the angel whispered to him, "Show no fear and play it cool." Alfred nodded. _Right. Play it cool. How the hell am I supposed to do that when I'm practically waltzing up to my deathbed?_ Alfred wondered but nodded in agreement. "We'd love to join you, Oliver."

"Wonderful!" Oliver clapped his hands together gleefully. "I'll go tell the household!" With that, the strange man sauntered off to share the news. Alfred looked over nervously at the angel.

"You may as well know that they call me Liberty, then." The angel sighed and let go of Alfred's wrist. "Come on…we've got to get prepared for dinner."

"What a…unique name…" Alfred suggested and only got a huff as a response.

* * *

The two arrived at dinner last, greeted by stares from the other supernatural beings there. They took their seats quietly; a few fox like creatures with several tails watching Alfred intently, communicating to each other in dog-like noises. The dinner table guests only consisted of Liberty, Alfred, Oliver, another human looking fellow, the fox like creatures, and a guest that could best be described as Death himself.

"Care to introduce us to our guest?" A man in the French accent spoke. Liberty shook his head and simply scooped something that looked like mashed potatoes onto his plate, passing it to Alfred. Alfred, deciding not to be rude, put some on his plate as well. One of the fox creatures morphed into a lovely young woman.

"Liberty, could you be a dear and pass me the rabbit hearts?" she asked, the black haired angel complied in silence.

Alfred thought he was going to be sick. Throughout the beginning of dinner, names of various foods made him want to vomit. Foods such as frog legs, mouse tails, lamb's brain, and snail salad made the American's head spin. This nonsense sounded like something his Francis would prepare… Alfred hardly touched anything on his plate, and when questioned, said he wasn't hungry. Usually Alfred was _always_ hungry, but now he was queasy.

"So what are you?" Oliver piped up cheerfully.

Alfred blinked, "What-" "Werewolf," Liberty cut in quickly, "He has amnesia so he's struggling with his identity."

"But I'm not- Ow!" Alfred yelped as the angel slapped his leg under the table. "Really? For some reason I only remember being a human…"

"Strange," the Frenchman sniffed, "He doesn't carry the stench of those mongrels."

"Francis, do mind yourself around our guest!" Oliver lightly tapped the older man's hand with a spoon. "He can't help it if he's suffering memory loss! The poor chap must be so very confused, too."

Death shook his head and everyone turned to stare at the creature. He pointed a slender, white, bony finger at Alfred, then took the same hand and made a slicing motion across his own neck (or where it should be if the others could actually see what was concealed under Death's black cloak). The room suddenly grew tense, and Alfred felt it too. Oliver, however, was ignoring the atmosphere in favour of a positive attitude. "If you won't eat supper, then you should at least have one of my famous cupcakes before heading off to bed!"

"C-can I ask the ingredients?" Alfred stammered out.

"Oh, poor dear, you sound like a human about to die! Lighten up, will you, love? My cupcakes are perfectly edible!" And the sunny Briton went on to describe the various guts of animals and their bloods thrown into the perfectly normal looking pastries. "Oh and between all of us here, I added an extra spice of amanitas!"

"Amanitas..?" Alfred blinked, head whirling with possibilities.

"An alternate name for it is the destroying angel. Located in Europe and the United States, it is a fungus, a mushroom for lack of a better term. If eaten by a normal human, it can be detected in their blood immediately. The first physical symptoms are usually nausea, vomiting, and bloody diarrhea. After an early feeling of slight discomfort, there is a sudden onset of extreme stomach pain, violent vomiting, intense thirst, and cyanosis of the extremities. Jaundice of the eyes and skin can also occur if the liver is badly affected. The victim remains conscious almost to the end, with only brief intervals of unconsciousness occurring between long lucid periods before lapsing into a coma followed by death. There are absolutely no known cures or treatments." The long explanation of the spice came from Liberty.

Alfred paled at this, "I uhm…no. I'm diabetic… I'm not allowed to have any sugar…" He lied. Alfred knew if he had said that in front of the world, he would've been laughed at for at least a century afterwards. Oliver looked hurt for a moment but his smile returned quickly. Unfortunately it was not the kind of 'I understand' smile. It was more of the 'I know that you are lying but I can let it slide this one time' kind of smile. Alfred felt sick and was thankful when Liberty excused the both of them from dinner. Although he was given a private bedroom and a fresh set of pajama's to change into after a quick shower, Alfred did not sleep well that night; for nightmares of his past reclaimed him.

* * *

The American awoke the next morning on the floor in a room that was definitely not the one he had fallen asleep in. A light rose incense tainted the air and as Alfred sat up he scattered thin wisps of smoke. "Ah good, you're awake." Liberty spoke, over by a table mixing something together. He turned around swiftly and was at Alfred's side with a small bowl of something best described as pink pudding. Alfred wrinkled his face as an indescribable scent from the goop hit his nostrils. Liberty frowned and jabbed Alfred's stomach sharply, proceeding to shove the mixture down Alfred's throat.

Alfred had no chance to cough the substance back and simply growled after the bowl was removed from his lips, "What the hell was that?!"

"You'll figure it out in a few hours. So anyway, the bridge is taking longer to mend than originally anticipated and nobody knows what time it will be completed. It was something about a rift in time and space that caused distortion between the gap of reality and dreams. I don't know why time and space are unbinding though…it's quite a mystery," Liberty replied.

Alfred groaned, "My head hurts…and I'm hungry…"

"Well obviously. Even though you're here spiritually, you still need to eat, rest, and relieve yourself. Come on, I can still cook earthly foods that you should be able to eat without a problem." Liberty helped the drowsy American to his feet, and then guided him down the hallway to the kitchen. "What do you normally have for breakfast? Oh never mind, I'll fix you one of my personal favourites. I haven't cooked normally in forever."

Alfred began to head out to the dining room when Liberty growled in an icy tone, "I wouldn't go out there until the herbs I gave you kick in. They know you're a nation Al, and they want to kill you. They won't do it while I'm here though. Although Death has control over when somebody dies, a death angel is higher than Death himself. To a degree, it is my duty to protect you when I can. So stay where I can see you because if you die when I can't see you, then I have no final say." At that, Alfred promptly sat his touché on the floor.

The younger nation watched the angel scour the kitchen for ingredients, brightening when he realized that it was in a fact a normal breakfast of bacon and eggs with sausage links on the side (but to be honest, Alfred was a bit repulsed and not crazy about to having to watch a pig be killed, gutted, and ground down).

Eventually, the breakfast was made and Liberty guided the blond to the dining room where the pair was greeted with the literal definition of a death glare. Tensions spiked the air worse than last night and even Oliver was not smiling. Alfred ate in uneasy silence, the other's eyes piercing him like knives. Leaning over, Alfred silently whispered to Liberty, "Now I feel like I have a migraine and my ass hurts." The angel simply nodded taking a sip from whatever drink he was having. Alfred felt his stomach twist when the familiar copper scent hit him like a heavy weight and a red liquid sloshed in the chalice.

Abruptly standing up after forking his meal down, Alfred grabbed his angel's wrist, announcing the others that he wanted to go to the library. It was only after they left the room Alfred was told there was no library. "Can you at least tell me some more things about this place, then?" The American pleaded, clinging to Liberty's arm. The angel shook him off, a bit uncomfortable with the sudden contact but agreed nonetheless and led him to another room in the hall.

The room was classy, but stuck in the Victorian era style. The only thing that wasn't different though, was the checkerboard floor pattern. Brown and black were the colours of the floor in this room. Seriously, what was up with these guys and the tacky flooring? Either way, Alfred flopped down on the couch in front of the hearth, Liberty taking a cushiony armchair. Now that Alfred stopped to think about it, Liberty was kind of a strange name and an even stranger nickname.

"Alfred you need to be careful when you're here. Like I said earlier, the others want to kill you but that's not the most dangerous reason. Every time you sleep and dream, anybody you see as perfectly as you remember becomes an open victim to this place, too. Kitsune… Once they make a living hell of one person, it isn't enough. That person serves as the host until the kitsune dies or the host dies. But while being a host, when you're here and you have dreams about others, that's like a direct gateway to another person's life. Please be careful…" The death angel's eyes were downcast.

"Do you know what condition I'm in right now? In the real world?" Alfred inquired.

Liberty paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, "You had a strong memory during the World Summit and a kitsune attacked you because you were vulnerable. The last time I checked, you were taken to a hospital and the doctor's said you were in a coma. Something else you should know, Alfred… That if you die here, you-"

"PET!" A voice roared from somewhere in the household. "To me _now._"

Liberty gave a faint hiss but stood up and obediently headed for the door out of the room, motioning for Alfred to follow. The pair hurried down the hallway until everything but the floor and the grand rug were visible, everything else around them emptied out into black nothing-ness. "You will wait out of sight and out of earshot, but where I can get to you if something happens," Liberty snarled, sitting Alfred on the floor before turning a corner and continuing to walk down the hallway.

Alfred sighed and tried to keep himself busy. He wanted to take a nap, but napping in the middle of the hallway in plain sight would simply not do. He could retreat to his thoughts but that wouldn't work either. Somebody could sneak up and kill him while he was zoned out. Speaking of being killed, what was Liberty starting to say earlier? What could possibly go wrong if only his spirit were murdered? Well then he'd have no soul and something would obviously happen to his body in the real world. Not to mention his duties as a country… But if he was country then he'd simply be revived after some time had passed…right?

The sound of footsteps echoing throughout the hallway made Alfred snap back to reality. He looked up to see the death angel without glasses and a deep, bloody gash across his left cheek. The angel's left eye was shut, blood welling up. "Ugh…" Liberty spat his own blood out before continuing, "Come on…the bridge is repaired…"

"But your face-"

"Is fine," he snapped, "This was nothing. I usually suffer much more." The angel stalked off down the hallway, Alfred lagging behind. The silence that followed hung in the air uncomfortably. Alfred stared at the other's heels as they walked, watching as scarlet drops stained the floor occasionally.

Decided the silence was unbearable, Alfred began to speak again, "What were you starting to say earlier? About what would happen if I got killed here?"

"I know you're a nation, and that's why dying here is a huge problem. When a normal spirit dies here, they become trapped. A nation like you however…you'll develop narcolepsy and end up a prisoner of time. Narcolepsy is a neurological disorder that affects your body's control over sleep and wakefulness. And when I say prisoner of time, I mean it. You end up in an endless cycle. You begin to live in a fantasy world created by demented beings and the more you desire to live there, the more it becomes a reality. Meanwhile, your body suffers. As a nation, you can be in a coma for decades as it is almost completely impossible to die.

"Therefore, you simply slide into an impossibly long coma. If the fantasy world you've always dreamed of becomes the reality of your spirit world, it is impossible to turn back. And if you manage to turn away from all your wanton lust and dreams, just when you think you've found the bridge to the real world, it takes you back to the beginning of your fantasy world. The more you try to escape, the more dangerous it becomes and eventually your fantasy world becomes nothing more than a hellish nightmare with no escape. These are nearly impossible to wake up from. Of all the nations who have slid into their fantasy worlds…only one has ever survived and survives as a nation today." Liberty responded as the bridge came into view just on the horizon.

"Who is it?" Alfred asked. "Is it somebody I know?"

"Oh trust me, you know him better than you think you do. He's one of Arthur's friends and everyone knows what little friends he has," Liberty smirked a bit, "Besides his magical friends, of course."

"By the way, I just remembered that yesterday at dinner you told everyone I was a werewolf. Is that, like, my spirit animal or something now? Oh dude, that would be so freakishly awesome!" Alfred practically beamed and jumped around at the thought.

"No, no, remember that substance I gave you earlier? Either way, that was one of my recent potions. After this if you ever return, you'll be able to shapeshift into a werewolf with training." Liberty smiled weakly at the other's sudden enthusiasm.

"I trust he hasn't worn you out yet, Liberty?" a new voice spoke from the bridge.

Alfred looked up, and then broke into a grin that reminded Liberty of a child that had just been given the keys to a chocolate factory. "IGGY!" Alfred shouted happily then tackle-hugged his beloved Brit. It was _his_ blond haired, bushy eye browed Arthur that couldn't cook; not some pink haired, freckled freak that baked poisonous cupcakes. "Artie, it's you; good old grouchy you!"

"I'm not old you wanker!" Arthur shoved him off. The Brit was in his Britannia Angel forme, a white toga and fine feathered, white wings all topped off with a delicate silvery halo floating above his head.

"Like _hell_ you aren't old, Arthur," Liberty teased.

"And look at you! Paler than pale and what have you done to your hair? And your poor face!" Arthur began fussing.

"Whoa, whoa wait. You guys know each other?" Alfred blinked.

"You mean Liberty never told you he's a nation too?" Arthur gasped slightly and fluttered over to Liberty, reaching to ruffle the taller man's hair, "Maybe you'll recognize him if-"

Liberty caught Arthur by his wrist, voice dropping to a harsh whisper, "Do you really think he'll still accept me if he finds out?"

"No…I suppose not… Sorry…" Arthur hovered back over to where he originally was. "I didn't mean to." Liberty simply cast Arthur a cold glare, Alfred feeling confused. "Why won't you come back with us?"

Liberty scoffed, "Do you really think the world is ready to accept me? You saw how poorly they grasped the situation back then, what makes you think they'll be any different now?! Only three nations dared accept me as my own, and even then I was labeled a belligerent! A hostile! A rebel! No. I can never return to a world that will not tolerate my own way of thinking. I was painted a villain by own brother for trying to defend my way and my people's ways of life and I was killed for it. I will _never_ return to a world where I will be slain for defending my people." Alfred jumped behind Arthur, startled at the outburst.

"While it is true you died quite young, murdered at that, the world is a changed place, Liberty. I can guarantee that." Arthur spoke gently, in a calming and soothing voice. "Your brother has done nothing but silently mourn you and he regrets what he did each day. He's has to live with what he's done for-"

"No!" Liberty snarled, southern United States accent highlighting his speech now, "He's only got mental scars! Those can heal! They always do! I've got physical scars inflicted by him that will never heal no matter how much time passes! He'll become an older, wiser nation that can crush any obstacle in his way while I sit rotting in the back of his memory and become nothing more than a piece of history he can't even remember."

"I'm sure your brother won't forget somebody like you…" Alfred muttered quietly.

Liberty gave a feral snarl, "I better not see you here again, Jones."

"I didn't do anything to you!" Alfred scowled defensively.

"You're more painfully stupid than I thought, Alfred. After all the things you've been told about me and you still don't know who I am," Liberty gave a sad laugh, "I'm already becoming nothing more than a rotting memory… Arthur, you take him home and make sure he doesn't come back. And if he does come back, he better be able to tell me who I am." The angel of death then gave a sad but darkly twisted smile before walking back the way he came.

The American and Briton waited side by side for a while in silence, just watching the darker angel go. Alfred turned to Arthur when Liberty was out of sight, and pulled the other into a suffocating hug. "Arthur…help me… I'm so confused and lost and internally conflicted and I don't know what to do… I don't like this place… It's cold and dark and twisted and it's making me lose sight of what's real and what's important…"

"There, there, Alfred…" Arthur pat the other's back softly, gently stroking his hair. "I can't guarantee that this will all make sense eventually, but I can guarantee that I'll be here for you. And Matthew will always be by your side ready to help you too. And Francis and so many others; we're going to be here to help you through this Alfred. I understand it isn't just a phase, and this is deadly, but you'll make it through this and I'll be here to help you whenever I can."

* * *

**AN:/** Oops! I wanted to upload this yesterday on Halloween but it turns out that I was stuck working on a float for my school's homecoming parade until around 6pm and then I came home, scarfed down dinner, and had to go hand out candy. It was freezing outside Dx But then I was at Tumblr's Hetaween Party and that was a lot of fun! I got to cosplay as Western!Canada to the video Hetaween chatroom. I was such a sassy flirt XD And then a France cosplayer came and I was still acting all flirty and sassy and our France was like "I am so proud of you, Mathieu!" Haha I was having a sassy showdown with a Soviet Russia then I had a typo and isntead of "We should get rid of Alaska" somebody translated my typo to "We should ride on Alaska". :P Oops. But anyway, I hope you all had a happy Hetaween yesterday!

So anyway, onto this chapter. Kinda...meh. I'm not very satisfied with this chapter OTL. But its one of those 'boring but necessary' chapters. -.- I promise it was necessary. Next chapter I'm already halfway through with and I guarantee it's more interesting ^^;

Also, most of my chapter titles come from songs I listen to! By the way, I'm not giving you links to these songs. Don't be a lazy ass, go look up the lyrics or YouTube videos yourself. The prologue and chapter 1 don't really have a song but  
Chapter 2 - "_Evil Angel_" by Breaking Benjamin | Chapter 3 - "_Someday_" by Nickelback

Well anyway, I hope I didn't scare any readers away with the dullness of this chapter...

Love, Alex~


	4. Chapter 4: Until The Day I Die

**AN:/** WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH. Okay, you can continue now. :3

* * *

_Chapter 4: Until The Day I Die_

After returning safely back to the real world, and his body, Alfred cleared all other medical tests and was discharged from the hospital two days later. As he was promised, Matthew came and visited every day and even came to pick up Alfred when he was discharged. The two brothers were close, but not tight, if that made any sense. Matthew felt cold and lonely living in Alfred's shadow all the time. He had brought the world so many great things, like basketball and insulin. Meanwhile, Alfred mooched off everybody like a bloodsucking leech and somehow ended up as the world power he is today.

Matthew often found himself wondering the keys to Alfred's success. Most others would think it was Alfred's trading and such, but Matthew knew better. The Canadian knew the real reason Alfred became such a strong, prideful, powerful nation. It was Alfred's older brother, Connor. The eldest of the three was the shortest. He didn't say much but when he did, he was quite wise and seemed to know a little bit of everything in his time. Connor had nice navy blue eyes and rounded glasses. He had dark blond hair cut in a style similar to Alfred and even had a cowlick, but on the opposite side of Alfred's. Matthew remembered how silently strong Connor was, and he only talked when necessary.

And if memory served Matthew, Connor had seceded from Alfred in 1861 due to political reasons. Nowadays everyone thought the South seceded because of slavery issues. And while this was one of the factors, Connor left Alfred mostly because of politics. The two older brothers had often bickered and quarreled until one day, Connor decided he was done arguing and just left without prior notice. During the Battle of Gettysburg, Connor had been murdered by Alfred and for weeks after, Matthew had to help Alfred through the shock he had caused himself. Alfred had been a nervous wreck for weeks.

Although Matthew had been upset with Alfred at the time for killing their older brother, he kept his mouth shut about it. Alfred had a tendency to forget who Matthew was, while Connor always remembered him and treated him fair; the Confederacy had always been able to tell the difference between Matthew and Alfred, and Matthew appreciated that. And although every once in a while, he'd get Connor and Alfred confused if only casting a quick glance, Connor wouldn't get frustrated while Alfred became rather irritated. Even now as the Canadian was driving his American brother home, he found himself missing Connor and wondering where he was now. "Hey, Alfred, you know your boss is having a Thanksgiving Feast is tonight, right?"

"Not interested…" Alfred waved his hand dismissively, staring out the passenger window. Matthew nearly hit his head on the back of his seat. What?! Alfred _loved_ feasts! _Especially_ Thanksgiving feasts!

"A-are you sure? You need to get some social interaction, Alfred. You're starting to shut yourself off from the world and it's worrying me. Tell me what's wrong…" Matthew pleaded, focusing on the road.

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm thinking."

"Alfred…" Matthew cast a quick but sorrowful glance at his brother. "Please try not to think too hard, eh? Every time you've been thinking hard recently, you pass out; at least that what Arthur said to Papa and I."

"I don't want anybody else involved, Mattie. So just…keep this to yourself, okay? Whatever Iggy told you, just keep it to yourself," Alfred sighed.

"O-okay…" Matthew frowned as he pulled into Alfred's driveway.

"Hey Mattie, stay the night over. It's late," Alfred staggered out of his seat and nearly face planted onto the pavement.

"Alfred…it's only four in the afternoon…" Matthew blinked after checking his watch.

"No it's not! Don't you see the moon and the stars?!" Alfred wailed, pointing at the sun and sky. When Matthew shook his head no, Alfred snarled and simply yanked the keys out of the car and stomped into his house.

"Hey! You hoser get back here!" Matthew jumped out of his car and bolted after Alfred.

"Ha! If you want them, come get them you maple sucker!" Alfred taunted, jangling the keys before darting into his house, sounding drunk.

"I wonder if they accidently sucked out more of his brain instead of the actual fluids…" Matthew face palmed and stalked off to find his brother. He wandered into the living room, looking around quietly and stopping at the fireplace mantel. A row of wooden toy soldiers were set up across the top of the mantel, a painting of golden wheat fields mounted on the wall behind it. Matthew looked further down the mantel and saw a black framed picture with the glass covered over in a thick layer of dust. He picked it up diligently, and wiped the dust off with his jacket sleeve. It was one of those fancy new digital slideshow picture frames.

Matthew smiled a bit when he saw their family at Lake Ontario a few summers ago. The next picture was of Alfred and Arthur at a Disneyworld. The next few pictures were mostly of Alfred and his fellow nations hanging out at various places. The slideshow ended with a picture of all the nations at Alfred's New Year's party from this year. And after that, it started from what Matthew presumed to be the beginning. Matthew couldn't help but give a gentle smile as he watched Alfred grow up from the time pictures were first digitalized but then when it cycled back to the Lake Ontario family trip picture, things started getting creepy. The pictures seemed to take a turn for the darker. They turned bloodier and bloodier with every passing picture, even though Matthew had just seen them earlier. Yet somehow, the Canadian was unable to put the thing down, staring wide eyed at the horrors in the little picture frame. It was only when the slideshow reached the New Year's picture that everyone was pretty much skeletons and zombies with clothes on, but that wasn't what made Matthew scream in sheer terror.

No. What made him unleash a blood curling scream was when a bloodied, rotten skull floated out of the frame and chant to Matthew a French curse about death. The frame slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. Matthew turned to flee, tripping over one of Alfred's potted plants. He flipped himself around to see if anything was following him, screaming again when it looked like Death was unfurling his long bony fingers, reaching for Matthew. The Canadian began screeching in French and English, squeezing his eyes shut waiting to be pulled under, but it never came. Instead Alfred was standing behind him, helping him up.

"Dude, what's with all the noise? With all the screaming you were doing anyone would think you were dying. All you did was drop my picture frame and knock over my plant." Alfred simply walked over and picked up his picture frame, then propping it back on the mantel next to his toy soldiers. "And if there were something paranormal going on around here, then my cats would totally be all over it. They're fine though." Alfred motioned to his pets.

The grey tabby was staring at Matthew in an irritated way, obviously haven been woken from his nap. Meanwhile, Alfred's white and black cat was busy trying to jump back up onto the couch, having been scared the hell out of when Matthew screamed. Matthew cast the tabby an apologetic glance, "Sorry Liberty."

"Liberty?" Alfred echoed.

"Yeah. That _is_ your cat's name, isn't it?" Matthew questioned.

"Oh…r-right, of course it is!" Alfred agreed quickly.

"Now that I think about it, he's lived quite a long time, huh?" Matthew sat next to the cat, helping Freedom onto the couch. "I'm surprised. He used to be Connor's cat. All we nations have cats that supposedly represent us. So if Connor has long since been dead…shouldn't Liberty be gone by now too?"

Alfred wasn't paying attention. Memories and sudden realization slammed into Alfred like a freight train. _That angel of death is no 'Liberty'. He's my brother… Connor…_ Alfred felt a new wave of guilt wash over him at the news flash. _I can't believe I was stupid to never realize that! Oh my god he… I'm responsible for his current state… If only I had let him just have that stupid Fort Sumter and we could've prevented that whole war and he'd still be alive and oh my god this is my entire fault. Connor…_

"Alfred…?" Matthew called his name gently. "Don't think too hard. I'm sorry I brought that up. I shouldn't have said anything…"

"Oh, no, it's not a problem at all! Actually…I think you just helped me out a lot. Thanks bro." Alfred hugged his little brother tightly.

"Uhm…you're welcome. I guess..." Matthew blinked.

* * *

A few days after Matthew's visit, Alfred somehow found himself back in the parallel universe of tacky flooring. He still never got a proper name for this place. So 'The Parallel Universe of Tacky Flooring' would just have to do for now. Upon arrival, Alfred instantly noticed he had wolf-like ears matching his hair colour sprouting from atop his head, and a fluffy wolf tail the same colour as well. So Connor hadn't lied, it really was a potion that would turn him into a werewolf spiritually. Not stopping for second thoughts, Alfred ran down the hallway towards the dining room. He stopped at the door to make himself a little more presentable and straightened his hair out, fixing his clothes a smidge too.

Alfred swung the grand door to the massive dining room open and was appalled by what he saw. There were even more demonic creatures from hell in here, and nobody turned to stare at Alfred when he burst into the room. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, the door shutting behind him with a loud bang. It was his look-a-like who looked up first. "Well if it isn't the innocent version of me! What's up other me?!"

Alfred watched Connor choke on his drink, managing to spit some up onto the table in front of him. Oliver smacked his head, shouting how that was rude to choke on such a fine drink. Connor wiped the liquid from his face and stared at the table, "How nice of you to join us, Alfred. We were right in the middle of reevaluating how we run the manor."

"Ah," Alfred nodded and strode over to take a seat next to Connor, "So _Liberty_, what has been discussed so far?" The American put an emphasis on the fake name.

"The conversation hasn't gotten very far. We've actually been bickering over what to have for dinner, werewolf," a girl sneered, long canines telling Alfred she was a vampire. "By the way, I hate how you Americans portray my kind. We don't sparkle, for one and-"

"Put a sock in it." Somebody interrupted from the opposite side of the table and the room broke into chuckles. The supposed meeting went on like this for a while before an older, scruffier werewolf felt Alfred was challenging him and sprang at the American. Alfred was horrified; he didn't know what to do. Simply willing himself to change into a werewolf wasn't working and he nearly screeched when the other werewolf was slashing at his chest. Alfred wailed in defeat, somehow controlling his tail to tuck under and touch his belly. The other werewolf noticed this and simply stepped back after a final slash, holding his tail and ears higher.

"You could've killed him, you mangy mutt!" Connor spat and Alfred scooted away timidly when his brother slammed the attacking werewolf into the wall. "You _don't_ kill others unless the order is given. Or have you forgotten how things run around here, _omega_?"

Alfred stared at the massive man with wolf ears and a tail. If he had that much muscle and brawn for only an omega werewolf, Alfred didn't want to know what an alpha would be like. He hadn't realized just much authority his brother held in this place until the offending werewolf was cowering like a newborn puppy. For the first time, he noticed the fear stricken expressions of almost everybody else present as the dark angel loomed over the wolf. Connor watched the wolf scoot submissively back to his seat before going to Alfred an examining the injuries. They weren't deep by any means, and the slashes had simply left shallow cuts. Alfred gave a small squeak of protest when Connor picked him up and left the room silently.

Alfred's older brother walked in silence, staring dead ahead as he carried Alfred to a small but tidy bedroom. He gently laid Alfred on the bed and walked over to the cabinet mounted on the wall and whipped out some medical supplies. Alfred just rested on his back silently as his brother dressed his wounds. It was a bit awkward now, since Alfred realized they were brothers. "…Connor?" Alfred spoke the name tentatively.

For a while the angel was silent as he continued his work before finally croaking out a simple, "Yes, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't know what he planned to say after that. He mostly just wanted to know if he was right in declaring his brother the angel. Connor finished bandaging Alfred's wounds and returned the supplies back to their homes. When the older turned around, he was pulled into a crushing embrace by Alfred, "I'm so sorry that you're like this." The younger brother whimpered, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

Connor shrugged his little brother off and stepped back. He watched Alfred's eyes flood in a mixture of emotions, but the older mostly saw rejection and despair swimming around. Alfred was sitting on his knees, his hands in front of him. Alfred's tears rolled down his cheeks, and he gave Connor a pleading look that screamed he was begging for forgiveness.

"I'm not ready to forgive you, Alfred…" Connor shook his head and turned his head away from Alfred. Alfred practically let out a quiet wail and hung his head in shame.

"Tell me why!" Alfred screeched suddenly, jerking his head up to glare at Connor, tears flowing freely now.

"'Why'? I'll tell you 'why'. We're blood brothers, for starters. We've been together since before colonial times! Or have you forgotten Mama and the Lakota tribe? Have you let them become a rotten memory too?" Connor growled.

"No! I could never forget Mama or Papa!" Alfred wailed.

"Then how could you forget your brothers!? Aren't we important to you anymore? It took you how long to realize who I was, and you can barely remember Matthew even exists, let alone even his name! Don't lie Alfred, you've forgotten all about Mama and the tribe." Connor snapped, and for the first time in a while, Alfred was speechless. Nothing was going on in his cranium, his thoughts completely blank. He could only sit there and listen to everything his brother was dishing out.

"We were separated when Antonio came and conquered your southern neighbour and I lived with him and Pablo for a long time. Meanwhile you're busy being colonized and whatever by Arthur and we never saw face to face until you decided you needed my help in about 1762. But you only saw me because Francis and Antonio were playing the swapping game with me when I represented the land of the Louisiana Purchase. You _knew_ where I lived and my address up until the swapping took place but you never wrote and you never visited and don't give me crap about Arthur's rules because I know all about them. Either way, you wanted away from Arthur and his British Empire and I remember fighting side by side with you in the battle that eventually won _your_ independence.

"Afterwards I went back home to Francis and Antonio, and you never spoke to me again. Until you decided you wanted Francis out of our Native American lands and told him off in 1808. We then started living together and catching up and all was peacefully for a while. I decided the present day Dakota's were too cold for my liking and moved down south to Alabama. Then the year 1848 rolls around and you have your stinking Californian Gold Rush. Do you realize how mortified Mama was with this? We watched you and your people kill our Native people just for some stupid gold! How could you just kill your own people as if you'd suddenly cut all ties with them?! Mama was devastated and she fled to present day Canada with other Native Americans. Matthew was so happy when his mother came to see him but you know what ended up happening? Mama _died_ because of European diseases brought over to the 'New World'. You didn't show any grief or misery and that_ crushed_ Matthew and I. How could you be so insensible?!

"And that's what started it all. After that we bickered and bickered and fought over the smallest things. And eventually, I just got tired of your complete and utter _bullshit_ and left. With the way your damned government was set up, I could tell that you as a nation would go downhill faster than francium explodes in water. And yet here you are today, in textbooks it's all about slavery and no politics! Alfred, your brain must be half dead! The number one reason we fought was _politics_! Not over slavery, though that was a small contribution to the war!

"When I sat down with my leaders and wrote a Constitution for the newly founded Confederate States of America, we explicitly defended slavery because it was a way of life! I admit to having slaves, but a lot of white folks didn't. You visited me once on a non-violent term during that war, and you saw how I treated them. A lot of slave owners like me never whipped or treated our slaves violently and they had a warm place to stay, healthy food and clean water. _And yet you still continued to paint me the villain._ I could practically foresee your Yankee government getting too powerful and look where you are now, Alfred!

"And you know what else? I realize slave ownership is against your Constitution of 'All man are created equal', but it was the only way of life as I knew it at the time. Perhaps if I had been allowed to grow as my own nation, I could've showed you what I was really capable of. And in today's time with today's technology, slavery would've been abolished on its own. We could've found a way around the beatings and harshness of some slave owners, but I was never given the time to grow as a nation…" A pause, "My entire life around you, I've felt like nothing more than your tool and your punching bag for when things went sour."

Alfred felt like he had just had his heart torn out, shattered into a million pieces, and replaced with empty nothingness. Everything Connor had said was true. Alfred felt miserable and at the lowest low of his life. He had forgotten about his mother, who represented Native America when it existed. He had forgotten about the Lakota tribe – his home and true family. He didn't care when his mother died. He didn't care about anybody's feelings back then except his own. He killed his own brother just for opposite opinions on _politics and slavery_ of all things. He often forgot Matthew was still there, just like he often forgot Matthew's name. "What were you _thinking_ when you kill your own people? What were you _thinking_ when you let your mother die? What were you _thinking_ when you killed _me_; your own _brother_?"

"I…I…" Alfred faltered, "I… I didn't think at all…"

"Damn right you didn't think," Connor spat. "So you can start now." Alfred simply stared after Connor as his older brother left the room, only pausing at the doorway, "And that, Alfred, is why I can't forgive you." The door to Alfred's room creaked shut and Alfred listened to his brother's footsteps echo down the hall. Once he couldn't hear them anymore, Alfred snatched his pillow into a hug and sobbed into it, hoping to at the bare minimum cry himself to sleep. The pains of his wounds were nothing compared to the lonely, shallow feeling swallowing him up.

When Alfred woke up the next morning, he felt like an empty shell. He got up, ignoring the pain surging through his body, made the bed sheets, and pulled on a clean shirt that had been left out for him. A small note written in neat handwriting was found in the pocket of the shirt; '_Just because I won't forgive you for a while doesn't mean I don't care. –Connor_'

Alfred crumbled up the note and shoved it back in the pocket of his shirt. He walked practically lifelessly to the dining room, giving a vicious werewolf snarl when some of the monsters present started teasing him. They only shut up when Alfred nearly split the table in half. Alfred was exhausted, despite having just woken up. He was tired of being mocked by everyone and before the end of breakfast, he had stabbed some poor creature in the eye with a spoon. Alfred wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone today, and the kitsune beings knew it too. They began communicating to each other in their dog-like mannerism. For the rest of the time until lunch, Alfred spent his time thinking and reevaluating his priorities in life and as a nation. Even the clock on the dresser seemed to be mocking him. Each second dragged on, the _tick_s and _tock_s echoed in Alfred's ears for an eternity. Connor quietly entered the room not much later and gently coaxed Alfred from the room, "I want to show you something."

Alfred simply growled at him but allowed himself to be dragged somewhere else in the strange world, questioning why Connor took him to a garden of sorts. It was outside, for certain, but it was bitterly cold and the sky overhead swirled with clouds the colour of black ink. It was a miracle anything was actually growing in this garden. "Who keeps everything alive?" Alfred inquired.

"I try my hardest. I love gardening. When I was suffering or after I was mistreated by my master, I could always find comfort amongst the flowers. But the faeries and pixies taking care of the flowers were easy prey to the kitsune, and they soon died. The garden began to wither with nobody taking care of it…so I started taking care of it myself. It made me sad to see the flowers dying. They're just so dependent on other life in this world," Connor sighed, "It's a shame that they'll all die after I leave. Nobody cares much for these poor flowers."

"How can you be comforted from plants?" Alfred blurted out, instantly wishing he could take it back. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid for not thinking before talking again!

"The flowers and trees are my friends. They're exactly my kind of therapy. I can talk to them and explain my problems or express my emotions to them and I won't be judged for it. The only thing I dislike about it is that I won't get advice I really need by talking to plants. I try to listen to their spirits like Mama told me so long ago… But I don't feel anything from them. These flowers are as lifeless and soulless as I feel." At this point, Connor had kneeled down to pet a black rose that had fallen over due to a weak stem.

"I'd offer to help but… Apparently I've lost connection to mother earth and all living beings except for myself." Alfred grumbled, "Now what did you want to show me?"

Connor picked up the rose and gestured to Alfred to follow. The two walked down the pale stone pathway to a corner of the garden where a small pond was. Connor sat down in front of the ground and patted the space next to him. Alfred grunted and sat down next to his brother, looking at their reflections in the water. The American was about to freak out and leap away from the pond when he only saw his own reflection, and not his brother's. Connor, however, put a hand on Alfred's shoulder comfortingly, "I'm dead, Alfred, my reflection won't show." Alfred snorted; as if that would really make him feel better. He settled down, despite the fact. "What do you see in the pond?"

"I see me, staring back at me," Alfred stated bluntly, staring into the water. He looked to his brother for some kind of acknowledgment, earning a nod. Connor took Alfred's hand, and then cut a finger pad with a thorn from the rose. Alfred flinched and was about to react when he felt blood welling up, but only grew more confused when Connor held Alfred's hand over the pond and the blood drop stained the water, sending ripples across the surface. Alfred's reflection became blurry for a bit and when the water stilled, Alfred was appalled by what was staring back at him.

It was still him, or at least he thought. The person of his reflection looked like the brunette Alfred that Connor had killed a little while back. "This is your double, Alfred. Your duplicate, your evil self, your doppelganger. He is literally your future if you walk down the wrong path."

Alfred growled, "There is no way I'm going to let myself become that demonic creature."

"That's exactly what your Francis and Arthur said to me," Connor sighed. Alfred glared daggers at Connor. "Ever since you passed out in your shed, it's been an illusion, a world you created. The only exception was when you saw Matthew; that was reality. Only here is where your time caught up to the present. So in bringing Arthur and France into your fantasy, they became trapped as well. I can't really explain much more without confusing you… But something I can tell you is that Arthur and Francis told me they would never fall victim to their doppelganger."

"And…the Oliver and Francis I saw…?" Alfred trailed off.

"It's them," Connor sighed, "I can't really say much to console you. But do you finally understand how impossibly hard it is to distinguish your fantasy and illusions from reality?"

Alfred's hands were fists, and he was so silently infuriated that his knuckles were turning white. He gritted his teeth, restraining from pouncing on his brother, "Why did you let them become that? How could you let them become creatures of Hell?"

"…Remember that nation I said who had survived this attack? He knows you're suffering Alfred. Now listen very carefully. I already told you he's a friend of Arthur's and you know him better than you think, but here's a new hint. I couldn't save them because this nation is risking everything he has for you to get out alive, and in doing so, he's created a time loop."

"A time loop?" Alfred echoed, staring at Connor in confusion and doubt. "No nation in the world wields that kind of power."

"You'd be surprised. Arthur and his two pals have mastered it. The time loop is screwing around with how I keep track of time, and that's what caused the bridge to go out of order," Connor replied.

"Can't you just tell me what my future is?!" Alfred demanded.

Connor shook his head, "I'm an angel of death, not a time traveler. But there is some good news."

"You found out a way to get me out of here forever and alive?"

"I said good news, not a miracle." Connor rolled his eyes and Alfred pouted. "Anytime you're in the reality realm, I'll be by your side…unfortunately there is a rather small sacrifice to be made."

"Throw out your cards and I'll be the judge." Alfred snorted.

"In order for me to be by your side and defend you, I need to become a nation again; at the bare minimum a small island owned by the United States," Connor looked uncomfortable at the proposal and it was out in the playing field now.

Alfred didn't know how to react so he just stared at the water. The idea sounded farfetched at the same time it was so tantalizingly close. Alfred thought it over a few more moments before nodding, "I've decided." There was a brief pause, "Giving up an island is worth protection, but there are just a few problems."

"What is it?" Connor asked.

"How do we explain who you are and where you came from? They'll only laugh at you if you tell them what really happened and…you told Arthur and me that you didn't want to go back to a world where you'd be judged for your opinion…" Alfred trailed off.

"I sat down and though about it for a while. I came to realize that no matter what time era it may be, there's always those people who judge you for your opinion and will act on their instinct. Death is a part of life and it's inevitable. Adapting to the new ways of the world will take some getting used to, but I'll try…" Connor sighed.

Alfred grinned and suddenly hugged his brother, "Thank you…"

Connor stiffened at the contact and simply patted Alfred's back, "But first, we have to get you out of this illusionary nightmare."

Alfred sat back, still smiling, "No, first we fix your hair."

"My hair; what about my-" Connor let out a grunt as Alfred grabbed his shirt collar and held him in place with that crazy strength and ruffled the black ash and powder out and continued until the natural blond color came back. The former Confederacy's cowlick popped back up. "My hair was fine…"

"I like you better as a blond," Alfred stuck his tongue out.

"Just remember though, I'll only be at your side when it's reality. I might take you back to the bridge, and you may pass through it, but if I'm not there, it's just you plunging further into your fantasy world. I don't know the total 100% cure for this myself… Perhaps I'll go have a chat with our survivor later." Connor agreed with himself before tossing the black rose in the pond and watching it fall apart and sink.

"So what kind of creature _is_ your...uhm…Master?" Alfred asked a bit awkwardly.

"He's not the prettiest thing. I don't think he has his own species, more so he might be a sub species of some other known creature… He refuses to tell me his name, and rather refer to him as 'Master'. He's a disgusting bony creature with taut grey skin stretched over the bones. He smells like death and decay and has phantom like features such as floating off the ground with a black aura around him. His face is like a long human skull with animal carcass pulled over it tightly, eyes caved it so much they look like beady orbs. Where our hair is, he has the mane of a moose and the antler of a moose as well. Various patches of moose fur over his body but from the waist down is usually the phantom tail." Connor shivered a bit.

"Sounds like a wendigo to me." Alfred shrugged.

"A what?" Connor blinked.

"A wendigo; Matthew keeps talking about them and their apparent recent sightings in Alberta, Canada. They were first discussed by the Algonquian people in Native American times. And you bother me about forgetting tribal times. Wendigo are violent cannibals. If he really is one, then I'm surprised you've lived so long…" Alfred shivered at the thought.

"Alright Mister Supernatural Expert, how do you know when you're being stalked by one?" Connor crossed his arms.

"You…don't…" Alfred blinked, "Why?"

"I like to call it...don't move or you'll be ripped to shreds."

Alfred tensed, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up, instantly feeling an ominous presence behind him. Long, black, claw-like fingers danced around his throat; then ghosted across his chest, taunting him. A rotten smell engulfed the American and Alfred had to resist the urge to gag. "Welcome to my manor." A voice purred into Alfred's ear, the stench of decay and death almost unbearable now. Alfred whimpered when he was lifted up from behind into a standing position, poisonous claws tearing open his shirt. The neatly wrapped bandages came undone, falling to the stone pathway, exposing the earlier wounds. Connor hissed and withdrew a knife from one of his pockets. "Ah, ah, ah, pet. What do you plan on doing with that?"

Connor simply scowled. "Now drop the knife," the creature ordered. The death angel scowled in refusal. "Or do you want me to induce your brother with windigo psychosis?" Connor dropped the blade reluctantly at that.

"I beg of you to spare him, Master." Connor nearly spat the last word out.

"And why should I do that? He's just another nation, easily replaced," the wendigo jeered, wrapping its phantom tail around Alfred as a boa constrictor would. "It's been a long while since I've tasted the flesh of a nation."

"Believe me when I say that killing him isn't worth the trouble it's going to cause." Connor warned. "Death has not given the command to kill either."

"Death… Oh poor Death. He doesn't know anything of what I do." An evil grin.

Connor hissed, "You sick bastard."

"You do not speak to your master in that way, pet." The wendigo squeezed Alfred tighter in its grasp.

"W-wait I have a question!" Alfred whined.

"Spit it out, pathetic nation." Connor's 'master' growled hoarsely.

"Earlier, Connor, you said that anything I've been through already is a fantasy world… Meaning I died at some point and those were send backs in time to try and prevent something…" The lighter blond stared at his brother completely lost.

"…" For a long while there was silence until oh so quietly, "Yes Alfred… "

"And I regret to inform you," the wendigo ghosted a hand around Alfred's throat in a choking hold, the other hand poised over his heart, "That the time loop begins…now." And at the last word, there was no time to react. After all, there isn't much you can do when you've just witnessed your blood brother's heart being ripped violently from his chest.

* * *

**AN:/** Dun dun dun. I killed Alfred, yes. But the story does not end here! Wow I feel so bad. It's been nearly a month since I last updated. asdfjkl; Well I'm off all this week ((You Americans and your Thanksgiving. Sheesh. Just one day for the actual holiday is great but a whole week?)) so I'll try to HOPEFULLY post something for this as a sort of apology. Man that will be a miracle. I use Microsoft Word to type my chapters up and usually they stretch to ten pages with 12 point font. Wow. Think I cna finished chapter 5 in a few days? I dunno. My brain with 'thhhbbtttt' as soon as I finished this chapter. I know what I want to do, just that I have no idea actually getting to that point without drastically skipping like 50 years worth in story time. ARGHHHH *beats my head on a desk* I'll figure something out...

So anyway! This chapter's song I based around is _Until The Day I Die_ by Story of The Year. :3

Reviews and favs are appreciated! I'm not as serious as I write my stories to be, I promise! I am honestly a funny person who just wants somebody to talk to . Until next chapter!

Love, Alex


	5. Chapter 5: One X

**AN:/** What time is it?! Unnecessary chapter time! WOO. No, actually, this me trying to apologize for slow updates by providing a quick chapter. Wait no, I lied again, this is in fact a necessary chapter. Also kind of experimental to see reactions to a specific pairing coming up..? Ahem….yeah… Americest is not Canada and America. That's AmeCan or UsCa or whatever you want to call it. Whoops. I should shut up before I give anything else away. So uh…warnings for this chapter! The warnings are going to give it all away dammit.

**WARNING: ****_This chapter contains yaoi, suggests sexual themes, involves OC X Canon, incest, random crack ships, and threesome. It is necessary that you read this chapter to understand the rest of the story; so don't skip it. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows._**

By the way, we the readers are back in the TRUE reality world when you start reading.

* * *

_Chapter 5: One X_

"So what are we waiting for?" a tanned man with brown hair and glistening jade eyes asked.

"Alfred," Ludwig growled, "He's always late to these emergency world leader meetings. And his Boss won't go online until Alfred gets there."

Nations and their respective leaders began bickering amongst each other, waiting for the obnoxious American and his President to get online the Conference Call. After about fifteen more minutes, the screen broadcasting at the American's end came alive and those attending the Conference Call fell silent. One of the government agents had turned on the screen, President Obama was sitting in his chair with a rather annoyed expression and the other nations and leaders watched what was going on in the background.

"No! Wait! I don't know what I'm supposed to do! You've got the wrong nation, I swear! I'm not the America you think I-" the door slammed in the other's face, the lock clicked and the glass walls of the room went white with electricity. "Am…" The nation sighed before reluctantly sitting down next to the United States' President.

A few nations which had been drinking a beverage while watching the nation wrestle with several government agents and security guards spat out their drinks. Older nations had various expressions of shock, horror, and disgust. But most of them wore expressions of disgust. Younger nations just stared at the supposed 'America' with curious eyes. All at once the Conference Call became chaos with nations beginning to yell at the two Americans while other nations muted their microphones and speakers. Several spoke out, "Who are you to come back?!" "What did you do to Alfred you monster!?" "How dare you, showing yourself to the world again!"

"Silence!" the America representative snarled and the Conference Call fell mostly silent. Death glares came from all angles and mutters of 'The South has risen again' were uttered. "I'm here against my own will, for starters. And next off, I ask you all throw aside what I've done and listen-"

A chorus of shrieks of variations of 'No!' erupted from the nations in their native tongues. The majority of the leaders sat there confused, unable to even begin to try to calm their representative down. Mostly the African nations were jabbing at the fake United States, cursing him with chants in their language and taunting. Although Ludwig was the one who usually calmed everyone down, not even he could get everyone under control. "Ya'll think you're so tough right now! How many of you pansies would like to tango with me later?!" Connor snarled, accent slipping a bit, and the nations bit their tongues. "That's what I thought."

"You say you are not Alfred?" a Russian accent asked, casting such a silence over everybody that you could hear a fly break wind. Connor turned his gaze to the screen with the Russian flag and emblem in the corner of it, nodding. "Tell us a short story of yourself then. And if anybody tries to interrupt I will make sure the doctor does not know where to sew your lips back onto, da?" The silverette smiled creepily and earned a unanimous nod of acceptance from nearly everybody.

Connor shivered. _If there's one thing that hasn't changed in my absence, it's how creepy this guy is…_ He thought bitterly. Either way, the former Confederacy took a few breaths before beginning. "Alfred and I had been together since the time Native America existed. When Antonio came and found gold in the Aztec Empire, present day Mexico, other nations decided to hop across the ocean and see what all the buzz of a new world was all about. That was the time Francis discovered present day Canada, and when many European nations discovered present day America. Either way, it was when the Spanish attacked our village and we were separated. For a while I lived with Antonio, Francis and Pablo. That only changed when Alfred needed my help breaking away from Arthur. After the American Revolution, Alfred and I lived peacefully together. Then there was the California Gold Rush when he stood by and let thousands of Native Americans get slaughtered. They were forced to move to Canada or die. Matthew was glad when our mother came to see him, but she died shortly after when European diseases finally overcame her. She was Native America, a nation I suppose you could say, so she was already weak from all the recent death of her people. After that Alfred and I couldn't go a day without arguing. And eventually, I decided enough was enough and broke away and became the Confederate States of America."

The room was still deathly silent, a few nations silently wishing he would continue. Connor just stared at the pen on the table in front of him. An airy voice picked up where he left off, "It was the Battle of Gettysburg where Connor was killed by Alfred. I remember Alfred was such an emotional wreck after that… By the time World War one rolled around, Alfred was trying to pull his country back together, as the abolished Confederate states were still unhappy with it. By the end of the First World War, Alfred had gotten most of the southern states to feel happy or at least neutral towards him. After that, it was vain and futile attempts for Alfred as he tried everything in his power to forget what he'd done and escape his guilt."

"I've done a lot of regrettable things I wish I could go back and change… And I will openly admit and express that right now… While I'm not the best man, I can at least swear on my life that I am an honest man…" Connor continued staring at the pen.

Some nations muttered to each other with the private chat option of the Conference Call. Others grumbled how you can never escape your past, while more still ranted silently. "Forget this meeting, we need our own. Everybody here had better show up at the Madrid, Spain meeting hall as soon as they can." With that, Arthur disconnected.

"Hey wait! You can't just make decisions without us!" "Ye bloody wanker…" "Get the hell back here!" Arthur's three brothers, representing Scotland, North Ireland and Wales yelled, the three of them disconnecting as well. Nations grunted as they signed off as well, their leaders protesting unhappily.

"How come it has to be my place..?" Antonio, Spain's representative, pouted before logging out of the Conference Call.

"Connor I'll meet you at the Capitol building in Washington D.C. You still remember where that is, right?" Matthew asked quietly. Connor nodded. "Okay, see you then." With that, the Canadian disconnected.

Almost a day later, the nations from around the globe had ended up in a huge meeting hall in the heart of Spain. The tensions were spiked so high that it was impossible for even the most oblivious of nations to miss it. The meeting began, but with extremely little order. After much chatter, the meeting was postponed until the next day for nations to catch up on their sleep and whatever else need be done. Connor just sighed and stood up; he had waited for everyone else to leave and promised Matthew he'd be back in the hotel room after collecting his thoughts. Gathering up his papers, Connor began to leave the room. He tensed and stopped walking when he was near the door, feeling an ominous presence behind him. Acting on instinct, he spun around, prepared to strike an attacker, only to see Ludwig standing there. "Sorry…" He muttered and relaxed himself.

"No, no, that's my fault. I shouldn't have been sneaking up on you," the German apologized in a gruff voice. "Either way, I need to ask you a favor." The younger blond gave a small dip of his head.

What came next was too sudden for anybody to react. A swift shove backwards, a not so gentle hold around the waist, and a muffling of speech. _I can't exactly answer questions like this._ Connor thought in an irritated fashion. He gave the blond haired, blue eyed German a cold glare through his glasses. _This bastard is trying to do something… I don't know what it is but I don't like it…_ The American struggled against his captor, fighting a losing battle. His gut was screaming at him to get away at whatever cost, so he acted on it, straining and trying to break free. It was useless with his arms pinned to his side and an obviously taller, stronger person holding him in a tight bind. The gloved hand covering his mouth was too thick, so biting to get free was not an option. And with his back pressed so tight to his captor's chest, there was no room to strike the other where it counted.

Despite being in such a bad situation, the ex-nation continued to struggle and writhe. Ludwig had only sat down in a chair, amused by the event unfolding in front of him. It took nearly forty five minutes before the American gave up because of getting dizzy due to lack of oxygen. "I see…" Ludwig commented, "Where you lack physical strength, it makes up for in your strong spirit and will." The older took mental note of the smaller and younger's physical exhaustion but the bright, burning flare sparked in the other's navy blue eyes of sheer determination.

Connor continued to glare at the German through his slight mental haze and dizziness. He recoiled when the taller came over and readjusted his askew glasses, desperately wanting to snap. Trying to turn his head away, it was quickly snapped back to face Ludwig by the hand covering his mouth. Instead he lowered his head and his gaze. Ludwig simply took a pen from his coat pocket and used it to tilt the other's chin up to meet his gaze. "Even though you've fallen from your own throne centuries ago, you still have that fight in you. Still have the same determination and gusto. Even now I can tell that if we were to take you out in the middle of nowhere you would keep trying to escape until you succeeded in doing so."

A snarl rose from the other's throat, and despite being muffled, it still got the point across. The man holding Connor in such an impossibly tight bind chuckled and nuzzled the captive's hair, "I like you so much better than Alfred, already." The American shivered, trying to shrink away without much gained from it. "We have learned that Alfred is suffering a severe case of narcolepsy. You should know that when he dies you become the new representative of the United States." The Russian purred silkily, lowering his head next to Connor's. Connor shivered involuntarily again and the other two nations smirked at this.

"America is at its weakest right now and the entire world knows it. You're the new America and we can guarantee trouble in the near future for you. Alliance pacts break after centuries of one's absence, and you are quite literally a clean slate. When Alfred dies all ties and alliances are cut; Europeans know this fact especially. So you better start making allies as soon as you can. Your chances of being attacked are alarmingly high, seeing as you don't exactly hold most of the world's likeability," Ludwig stepped back and gave Ivan a small nod.

The Russian uncovered Connor's mouth and the shorter gasped in a wonderful breath of air, simply breathing for a while before glancing at the Russian behind him and the German in front of him, then stared at the ground, "You two aren't exactly faring very high on my likeability list either…" The other two simply gave chuckles of amusement. "And would you just hurry up with your favor already?"

Ivan gripped the younger's chin and turned his head so that dark violet met navy blue. "We want you to be a part of our alliance."

Ludwig gave Connor no time to think, "Francis is starting to develop narcolepsy as well, and the three of us are such great allies. If France is to fall, we would very much like America to be our third closest ally."

"Now before you ask what's in it for you," Ivan picked up, "When Alfred dies, you have to immediately jump in as the new representative of America. And at that exact moment, the world will be watching and Alfred's enemies will be waiting to attack, seeing as how you will not have any allies. But if you agree to this, that's where we step in and defend if they do decide to attack."

Connor looked back and forth, "There's more behind this than just an alliance… What more are you two gaining from this?"

"Smart man," Ivan huffed, "Too smart."

Ludwig just kept his smirk, "We're hated by the world too, Connor. Everyone thinks Ivan is still a communist, everyone thinks I'm still a Nazi, and everyone thinks you're still a vicious belligerent. That's all so old and in our past, and we've all obviously changed since we were labeled. Think about the ties for a minute; a communist, a Nazi, and a belligerent."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. We're all changed nations that are tied down and judged by our pasts. I don't get what this has to do with making a damn alliance though. So let's say that I accept this alliance. What do you plan to achieve with this alliance?" Connor snorted.

"American economics are failing, while German economics are prospering and Russian economics are somewhere in between. On the other end of the stick, American population is forever increasing while German and Russian populations are failing, thus beginning to make the economic systems unstable. We were just discussing though…should you join our alliance then we could try and balance the American economy. America is slowly becoming what we countries call a 'beggar nation'. By accepting this you'd need to open American businesses in Germany and Russia. This will do two things, positively influence everyone's economy and bring the population back to Germany and Russia. And here's another thing; you have all the resources and people you need, but we have the technology. The ponds and rivers and such are so algae infested in America that Ivan and I could pick it up and try to make biodiesel with our science and technology. " Ludwig flipped through his notes, and once finished, closed his notebook and cast Connor a glance.

"… Has this been thoroughly discussed between our respective leaders?" Connor inquired.

"It has. President Obama is waiting for the right time to do so." Ivan answered.

"Hmr…" Connor mused. Ivan let go of him and stepped away to stand beside Ludwig. "I don't exactly want to just rush into things…"

"We understand. It must be hard for you to suddenly be thrown into our time and have the crushing weight of holding America thrown at you in one shot. We'll let you sleep on it, tell us tomorrow." Ivan gave a friendly smile as did Ludwig. Connor returned with a faint smile before turning on his heel and walking off briskly.

Connor slept uneasy that night, waking up multiple times. The entire day had just been so weird to him. What had even happened? It was time to make a short recall… Connor remembered that his master had killed Alfred and he had only been able to stand by and watch as the cannibalistic creature ripped into his brother. Somehow he had broken out of the strange trance and attacked his master. He remembered being pinned down and nearly being shredded to scraps of meat when something had come and…and…and then what? Connor was pretty sure he hadn't died and simply passed out from blood loss. But we he woke up he was perfectly fine, and not even the pentagram was burned into his hand. That was when several government agents burst into his room and ushered him into the shower, tossed a suit at him, and rushed him to an official looking building. Connor was fine, but what about Alfred?

The ex-nation had flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, desperately wishing he could go check and see how Alfred was doing. The more he thought, the more horrors came to his mind so he pushed those thoughts away and began to think about his encounter with Ivan and Ludwig. He had called and had a 'wonderful' five hour conversation with Obama and by the end of the conversation, had been instructed –or rather, forced to accept- the alliance with Germany and Russia. The American government had decided that in creating such an alliance would eliminate the threat and tensions between the three nations.

So now here Connor sat, waiting for the other nations to leave the meeting hall. He eyed Ludwig, who was chatting with Feliciano, then turned his gaze to Ivan, who was tapping his pen on the table also waiting for everyone to leave. After what seemed like an eternity, everyone was gone but the three nations. Ludwig sat at the head of the table, Ivan on his left side and Connor to his right. "You discussed with your Boss, da?" Ivan asked, earning a nod from Connor. "And?"

"He said that I should go through with this… Or rather, in his exact words, 'I have been talking with you for five hours politely and now I draw the line. You will form an alliance with them or I will go to Spain and personally whip your ass.'" Connor re-quoted the President, earning laughter from the other two. "So that's it? We're allies now?"

"Ja we are," Ludwig smiled, "Usually there's the diplomacy part of it but that can wait. For now we'll go find a bar and have a few drinks for a small celebration."

"I know the perfect spot too!" Ivan said cheerfully.

"A gay strip club… You brought us to a gay strip club…" Connor face palmed when they arrived at the establishment.

"Da and it's a bar too, problem?" Ivan asked, though he really didn't have to judging by the look on the younger's face.

"Prude," Ludwig sneered before pushing the other inside.

"O-oh dear… God forbid I get dead drunk in here…" Connor whispered to himself. Unknown to him however, the other two had in fact heard him and it was their goal to get the other drunk anyway.

* * *

The next morning, Connor woke up with a pounding headache and an agonizing pain in his rear. The worst part was that he couldn't remember much of anything from last night. Something about diplomacy…_Shit…._ Was the only word that suddenly came to his mind. With a startled yelp, Connor fell rather ungraciously off the bed that was not his own, disturbing the other two. "S-shit…did we actually… Ahem… You know..?"

The German and Russian nodded. Connor clapped his own hand over his mouth and he just stared at the other two appalled. Ivan stretched out, still lying down, and with a dazed expression, "I would not mind a third round, actually."

"What was the point of…that..?" Connor whined softly, drawing the blankets he took with him around him.

Ludwig sat up with messy hair, "One, it's a nation's form of diplomacy since World War One. Two, it strengthens bonds between already existing allies. Three, allies need to be familiar with each other's-"

"No! No, no, no! I don't want to know anymore!" the younger protested, covering his ears.

"What a prude," the other two snickered at the same time.

"Taking advantage of a drunken person should be a crime," Connor sulked.

"You're so head strong and things of that sort. A crab, you're tough on the outside but you're soft on the inside. We can tell you hold those dear to you close to you and protect them at whatever costs." Ludwig muttered.

"Amazing how you can just pick that up in less than 48 hours," Connor rolled his eyes, looking around the room from his spot on the floor for his clothes.

"Searching for these?" Ivan laughed in a childish manner, waving the other's clothes around.

"I thought Francis was supposed to be the perverted one…"

"Three things you need to know, comrade; Francis is not a rapist, Antonio is not a pedophile, and Gilbert is not a pervert." Ivan tossed the American his clothes.

"I'll try to remember that," the youngest of the three hastily began to pull his clothing back on, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on my brother." About a minute later, he was out the door.

"He still cares for his brother. Somebody who killed him none the less, pity…"

"I wonder how long it will take for him to realize that that didn't really work and we won't really be allies until he becomes America."

"So we'll just have to teach him again when he does, da?"

"Ja, he doesn't realize how much alike we are. We get knocked down by others but in the end…we'll prevail and stand above everyone."

* * *

Almost a week later, Connor found himself in what would be the manor in his former universe. Only it was demolished. Gone, obliterated. It looked like a bomb had exploded in the center of the manor and blasted it to smithereens. Cautiously picking his way through the rubble, Connor headed in the general direction of the garden to the spot where he had last seen Alfred. However, instead of finding any remnants, there were words written in blood. _'The Guardian of the Atmosphere and Watcher of the Sun contain Alfred's spirit now. It'll be too late by the time you get to him, considering the other spirits residing within will get to him first.'_

"Son of a bitch," Connor growled before spreading his black wings and flying off towards the spirit world's central terminal. Upon arrival not much later, he was greeted by an ugly green and blue scaled gremlin. "Listen up you," the angel snarled, grabbing the creature by the throat and suspending it in the air, "Point me the way to the Guardian of the Atmosphere and the Watcher of the Sun." The gremlin whimpered and pointed to the eastern most bridge. Tossing the gremlin back onto the floor, the dark angel fluttered off down the bridge.

The darkness was rather suffocating and pressing as Connor walked across the bridge into a different part of the alternate universe, surprised when he finally came to the other side to find the spiritual side of Egypt. He knew exactly what monster he was looking for, and fluttered gracefully up to the Sphinx of Giza…or at least its spiritual form. "Alright I'm going to tell this to you straight, you consumed the wrong spirit into your heart and being and I need to get it back."

"_Ha! As if I haven't heard that one before," _The half man, half lion beast bellowed. It lowered its head to snap at the angel, who flinched. _"If you want to save this spirit I supposedly consumed by accident, then answer my riddle or I'll have myself a quick snack."_

"All right, tell me your riddle, kitty cat." Connor huffed, crossing his arms.

This earned a dry growl from the Sphinx, _"Which creature in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?"_

After a solid few minutes of not uttering a sound, the Sphinx's lips twisted into a dark grin. "I've got it." The dark angel flew up to the Sphinx's face and whisered the answer to the living statue.

The dark smiled quickly turned to an angry frown, _"A promise is a promise, dark spirit. But mind you that you need to appease to the Gods on duty when you save this spirit."_ The lion-man swiftly stood up and lifted the angel up with a paw, then roared loudly at the three pyramids. _"Now hurry to the middle pyramid and find the portal in the sand." _ With that, the Sphinx batted the much smaller angel in comparison across the desert.

Connor huffed as he flew gracefully the extra hundred feet or so. Easily spotting the portal, he passed through it and ended up thumping down dusty stairs. He groaned in slight pain when he finally hit the bottom of the stairs. He pushed himself up and looked down torch lit hallways. "A maze; how classic." Quickly deciding he wouldn't find Alfred by just standing around, the angel chose a corridor and traveled down it.

And after several hours or reaching dead ends and narrowly escaping a lion that prowled the labyrinth, the angel found his brother in the heart of the maze, surprisingly in one piece. "So this is the fantasy world you created, huh? Couldn't you have at least made it easier for me to find you?"

Alfred sprang forward and tackle-hugged his brother onto the floor again, "Connor!"

"Okay great, explain things later we need to get out of here first," the older chuckled and shoved Alfred off him.

Alfred stepped in front of Connor, "I memorized the way out of here from the cave wall in the room I was staying in so I'll lead the way-"

"I don't think you'll be going anywhere." A new voice spoke out, followed by the roar of a lion. The pair fell to floor into a corner at the lion's mighty rumble. They looked up and saw a magnificent curly furred lion standing next to a pale, slightly muscular man who wore nothing more than a loincloth. Small golden wings sprouted from the man's back and he spoke with a slight Greek accent.

"Who the hell are you guys supposed to be-" Alfred was once again cut off; but this time by Connor covering his mouth.

"Those two are the Gods currently guarding this place, or rather the Gods on duty. The lion you see is the Egyptian god, Bes. The winged man isn't an angel; he's just a god with wings, Eros." The older whispered to Alfred, who was currently situated on his lap.

"I feel like they're good guys but…I also feel intimidated?" Alfred whispered back.

"Well the Sphinx told me we had to appease to the Gods on duty if we ever saw them… But while I do know a lot of things, I don't know what they're the gods _of._" Connor sighed, wracking his mind for any connection at all.

"Dude, I got this. Bes? He's a cool dude, protects women in labor and fights off demons. He's a god of music, life, and sexual pleasure! And then Eros is the god or what he sounds like! His Roman counterpart is Cupid, he's a crazy big fan of homosexuality, he's usually represented as the god of love, desire, sexual pleasure, and erotic love!" Alfred babbled, rather cheerful to show off his knowledge.

"It's great you know that stuff but how the hell do we make such a grand offer to them?!" Connor practically hissed but kept his voice low.

"Uhm…you know, that's a pretty good question…huh." Alfred blinked, leaning back against his brother in thought.

"I would also appreciate it if you got _off_ of me while you think! You're heavy!" Connor snarled, getting squashed under his rather hefty brother. After much effort, he managed to roll Alfred off him and onto the floor next to him.

"Well, we could…" Alfred whispered the rest into his older brother's ear and the ex-nation sprang away, startled by the very thought of it.

Connor hissed, "No way, not again!"

"…Again?" Alfred blinked.

"Ah…" Connor blushed slightly and looked away, suddenly interested in the wall. "After you were killed by my master he knocked me out… When I woke up everybody was calling me 'America' and the Secret Service and government agents were rushing me to a video meeting with the nations and their leaders… We left and held our own emergency meeting. You must be in pretty bad condition… Everybody is saying that you're in such a critical condition that I may as well just become the new representative of the United States…"

"Oh god…" the blond's wolf ears lay back against his head and his tail drooped. Suddenly they perked again and Alfred pinned his brother to the floor, promptly sitting on Connor's lap and holding his wrists together with one hand above Connor's head. "Who allied with you?" Alfred's sky blue eyes narrowed.

"I-Ivan and Ludwig…" the other continued to look away.

"Argh!" Alfred facepalmed with his free hand, "Connor you're still an ex-nation until I die in reality!"

"No harm and alliance was made then..?" the darker blond asked, almost afraid of the answer coming.

"There _will_ be future damage if I don't reestablish what rightfully American land is! Dude, they're gonna get some land in America when if you do become the United States!" Alfred wailed unhappily.

"A-ah… I suppose that would have been nice to know… So, uh, is there any way to, ah…reestablish your borders per say?" Connor asked.

"You better believe there is! And I intend to fix that little problem right now _and_ get us out of this situation with these Gods!" the sunny blond hissed.

* * *

**AN:/** I'll just… *weeps* Anyway… Uh… I got some questions as to why I call the Confederacy 'Connor' as opposed to the ever popular 'Sam', 'Fred', and 'Confred'. Sam reminded me too much of Uncle Sam, which is the representative of America (to a normal person; to a Hetalian that's Alfred's job :P) and Confred just didn't sound very good at all. So with a slight change to 'Confred', my friend and I decided on Connor. And Fred just seemed like a nickname for Confred so that one went out the door too. :P

Ahaha I failed to keep my promise to update by the end of this week so uh…yeah…here it is. I apologize for the random IvanXLudwigXConnor I can't even begin to explain that. Story filler I guess. And I was getting tired of 'Alfred, Alfred this this' and 'Alfred, Alfred that that' and 'Alfred this' and 'Alfred that' and 'Alfred, Alfred this that'

Ah…if anybody wants the _real_ Alfred X Connor smut part…please do ask. I won't put that in the next chapter OTL I get so flustered about writing smut. I roleplay it, a lot. But when I sit down to write it out all nice and detailed, I start to sweat. And forget posting smut online. I get so horrifyingly embarrassed that I think if I post it I'll die. Not embarrassment of poorly written smut, but embarrassment of actually _posting_ and _writing_ smut… Ahaha… So if you guys want it, I request that at least 2 people ask for it and I'll post it in a separate story here on Erk… I may regret that later…

So can you solve the Sphinx's riddle? _"Which creature in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" _And don't cheat!

This chapter's song: _One X_ by Three Days Grace  
Next chapter: Let the mind fuckeries begin.

Favs and reviews and much appreciated as always~

Love, Alex


	6. Chapter 6: Until the End, I Am Hopeless

**AN:/** When you see the (( )) then listen to 'PMD2 – I Don't Want To Say Goodbye (Long Version) to create more of a feeling. If you don't know your history, you may struggle a bit with this chapter… Or you can be as mind-fucked as Alfred is by not knowing your history :3

_**WARNING: This chapter contains character death.**_

* * *

_Chapter 6: Until the End, I Am Hopeless_

_"This won't be mentioned at all to anyone for any reason what-so-ever." Connor growled._

_Alfred had only smirked at this and straightened his brother's tie out, "Sure bro, whatever you say." And the two brothers had been allowed to leave after their act of appeasing the Gods of sex, Bes and Eros, who were guarding the temple at the time. Afterwards Connor was determined to help Alfred find the way out of his fantasy world before it was too late. They had ventured back to the central terminal that connected all spiritual worlds and alternate universes. Unfortunately for them, Alfred's body in the real world had a shift in dreams and they ended up in the middle of a swamp, narrowly escaping vines that seemed to have a mind of their own; then to a desert made of sugary treats and almost got crushed by a candy scorpion. And then an actually peaceful forest, where Connor was determined to help Alfred master changing into a werewolf._

So here they were now. Alfred had been able to change into a werewolf, yet was unable to actually change back. It was night time now, and the sunny blond furred werewolf was leaning against a tree watching the fire they had built, Connor dozing on a tree branch above him. Alfred was about to fall asleep himself when he heard twigs crunching further off. Instinctively, the fur on his back along his spine rose and his curled his lips back in a feral snarl, exposing his sharp fangs. Connor snapped his head up at Alfred's growl and sat up in the tree, poising himself to attack whatever was coming towards them. Connor instantly recognized the girl with long raven hair who stepped out of the bushes, and Alfred did too.

"You aren't a head leader anymore, Connor," the vampire grinned darkly and crouched in a cat like position, launching herself at the dark angel, knocking him from the tree and slashing at him with her sharp nails.

The angel kicked her off, "Now Mabel…you and I have no quarrel."

"You warning means nothing to me!" She laughed a wicked laugh and flung herself at Connor again, this time effectively ripping his suit and dress shirt. Connor flinched before hitting her square in the gut and sent her skidding backwards. The vampire cackled again and started to spring forwards again, this time, though, Alfred bowled her over and bit into her arm, making her screech as the massive wolf swung his head back and forth in the motion used to rip limbs off. The vampire punched Alfred's head repeatedly with her free hand and it was only when Connor told him to stop that he in fact stopped. The young girl was hissing in both pain and attempt to sound threatening.

"You're not fooling anybody. Like you said, nobody has ranking anymore. Now…get lost," the angel growled. With that, Mabel sprung to her feet and holding her limp arm, darted off clumsily into the forest. Once Alfred was sure she was gone, he turned and tackled-hugged Connor, giving his brother doggy kisses. "Okay, okay, I get it! Get off me you big furry beast!" Connor laughed. Alfred snorted in his face at being called a beast but clambered off Connor anyway, lying next to him. "So Alfred…"

The wolf rolled onto his back and glanced at his brother with a dopey grin. Connor sighed and looked up at the swirling black sky, "I have to go back to the real world. You…can't… This is a fantasy world Alfred, you and I don't know the way for you to get out. The way I leave will only lead you deeper into your subconscious…"

Alfred whined unhappily and flopped back over onto his stomach, as if pouting. "You and I both know that America needs a stand in representative, too…" Connor trailed off. Alfred growled a bit at that but it was a sulking kind of growl. "Yeah shut up. I don't know squat about you and your current Yankee ways." Connor petted his brother's head and the sunny blond wolf sighed in content. It wasn't much longer when the ex-nation fell asleep, Alfred nudging the shredded suit and dress shirt to cover his brother's chest. The werewolf blinked when he noticed the scar _he_ had given the older. It had healed funny, and Alfred thought it looked like a bird of some sort flying across the sky. Alfred let out a huff and relaxed himself, shifting back to his human self with the wolf ears and tail. He curled up next to Connor quietly. The darker blond had turned his back to Alfred now, and the next morning when Alfred awoke, Connor was gone.

**_~*~Reality~*~_**

The ex-nation woke up in the middle of the night with a cool, wet rag on his forehead. Matthew was sleeping in a rocking chair in the corner of the room, and quilt wrapped around him. Connor sat up, taking the rag from his head and laid it on the nightstand next to him. A small sneeze was enough to startle Matthew from his light sleep and the younger instantly sprang over and gave the other a hug, "I was worried you weren't going to wake up!"

Connor just pat the other's back, "How long have I been out, Matthew?"

"Almost a week… You aren't developing narcolepsy…are you?" Matthew asked.

"No," Connor shook his head, "I must be trying to get back into the swing of things slowly. You see, one day there is almost a week here on earth. The time I slept was normal for…where I've been."

The Canadian nodded and sat on the edge of Connor's bed, "I admit…I was really shocked when I saw you in the Conference Call."

"Not exactly the best way to re-introduce myself to the world, huh?" Connor gave a half smile. Matthew pulled away from the hug and it was silent between the two for a long while.

"…Connor?" Matthew whispered quietly, as if afraid to break such a fragile silence.

"Yeah?" The other replied, equally silent.

"Somebody kidnapped Alfred from the hospital." And in the moment, the silence was shattered forever.

* * *

"Do you suppose he'll ever wake up?" a harsh voice rasped.

"Hard to tell; we _did_ just cut him off from all the medications he's on." A colder voice responded.

"W-what exactly do we plan to achieve in doing this..?" a softer voice asked.

"Shut up!" the harsh voice snapped, "He's our e_nemy_, and _you_ have the secret service that will force him to tell us whatever we want."

The quieter one whimpered, "But I d-don't think this is the best way to go about this-"

"It doesn't matter what you think!" The owner of the cold voice slapped the owner of the quieter across his cheek, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"I don't answer to you!" the softer wailed, cradling his stinging cheek, "I'm a sovereign nation!"

"You _may_ be your own nation according to the United Nations," the harsh voice snarled, "But you still listen to us!"

"Leave him be," a new voice rang out, the door creak resounding through the eerily silent room.

"Vlad!" the two offending nations recoiled and slid away from the victim.

The newcomer wore a long dark blue coat and matching dark blue pants. His black shoes shone in the moonlight filtering through the huge glass windows, illuminating the landscape of the outdoor world. The man stood smiling, his canine teeth abnormally long. Bright ruby eyes shone playfully, and his short, straight, strawberry blond hair curled around his face. A small hat tipped to the side with a red and white ribbon hanging off it to his shoulders added to his childish yet intimidating display. Across his heart on his jacket were a Romanian flag pin and a gemstone under it. "And even if you do manage to wake Alfred up from the state he's in," the Romanian purred silkily, sliding next to the two bullies as smooth as a feline, "Torturing him won't help. Our American friend here is stubborn, and he won't talk, da? You'll end up torturing him to the point he becomes catatonic and nothing will be gained."

The two jumped away from him, "Vampire!" One of them spat and withdrew a gun, loading it with a silver bullet. "Don't you dare move!" He trembled. The other bully whipped out a vial of Holy Water and popped it open, then dumped the water on the Romanian.

"Now what exactly did you plan to achieve with that..? Besides getting me wet, of course…" Vlad gave a childish pout. The other fired his gun, striking the other where his heart should've been. Vlad cocked his head, "Way to ruin a perfectly good suit. Tell me, why are you Middle East countries so violent?"

"Leech! Demon! Get away from us you freak! Get away!" the man with the gun shrieked and dropped his weapon as the vampire stepped closer, leaning into them.

"Boo~" the Romanian smirked and the offending nations fled, screaming in terror. Vlad walked over to an equally shaken victim, who was terrified of the scene that had just unfolded in front of him.

"P-Please…g-go away…" the beaten nation whined and shrank away from the Romanian representative. He scrambled away and fled the room as well. Vlad sighed and walked over to a rather immobile and knocked out Alfred, who was tied promptly to a chair.

(( )) "You may not know me, Mister America, but I know of you. You may not hear me right now, Alfred, but perhaps my words can find a way into your rather thick skull." Vlad pulled up a chair and sat next to Alfred, looking out the windows. "When I was a young nation…I was in love. You may not know him either, but I'll tell you his name is Nikola. Nikola is a nation too, but that's not important right now. Anyway… I found myself love-struck with a woman. But not long after that, I found myself in a similar position to where you are now. The kitsune were after me… And after years of being trapped in a parallel universe, my body suffered in reality. We didn't have the kind of technology we have today back then, so I was dying. My country was falling apart. And when I finally escaped that place forever…it was almost too late. My country had almost completely dissipated. But then that girl I had fallen in love with…she changed me into what I am today. Of course, my people consist of vampire slayers, and they killed her for changing their representative. Back then it was okay for people to know we were nations…nowadays it just isn't safe at all.

"But…when I fully recovered… Nobody talked to me anymore. Was it because I changed..? Even Nikola didn't even want to hang out like we used to. As time progressed, I became more and more shut off from the world… Vampires nearly faded into nonexistence of people's minds until one of _your_ people brought forth the idea of sparkling vampires." Vlad rolled his eyes, "You may not remember it, because being in this state corrupts your memory, but you told everyone at the world meeting that you were being attacked by spiritual beings, everybody laughed but I believed you. I've been walking in your dreams and in your fantasy world since the beginning. You have no idea how many times you've died, Alfred. Poor Connor can't even keep up with it. Truth is told… I'm the one resetting time until you make it out alive. You keep going into a coma and when the world thinks you've finally woken up, you just go right back into a coma, each time longer than the last. It's been almost 50 years Alfred. But I keep resetting time and sending us all back to a time where you might be able to wake up.

"But I can't do it forever. Eventually I'll die, Alfred. I've seen the world 50 years from now. It's a terrible, terrible place. Alfred Jones…I beg that you hear me now when I say that you _must_ wake up soon! I have seen past 50 years ahead of now and I tell you that the more times I reset the closer my killer comes! And when I die, all the time travelling is lost and we instantly go back to the year it's supposed to be! Listen to me Alfred, you must wake up! You must! Before it's too late! Alfred this is reality…it's not real time but…anything that happens to me now will hurt the world…

A long pause, "This is…this is where I die…but somehow…somebody else sent us back in time to prevent _me_ from dying. I don't care much if I die…by you need me to keep you alive long enough to escape…and…this is real time…or is it? I'm not sure anymore… I feel bad to have wasted that person's efforts…but you needed to know the truth."

"We should have known you were the one to kidnap Alfred!" A voice shouted and bright, blinding lights flooded the room. All at once, several nations had surrounded the vampire, who looked around, sizing up his opponents.

Seeing as he couldn't win either way, "Come now friends," he stalled, scanning the crowd for an ally or friend, "Let us not start an unnecessary war…" Almost all at once, the other nations withdrew a weapon of some sort, making Vlad swallow a bit nervously. The circle pressed tighter and Vlad shrank back from them, away from Alfred, wincing when he was wrapped in a death grip. He gasped and looked up at the nation holding him in such a death hold, looking up into the eyes of a certain Russian. _I'm sorry Alfred…Nikola…Gilbert…everyone… I've failed to keep my promise to you…no. I've failed to keep my promise to myself. _And in a single swift movement, off was his head.

"NO!" Connor screeched, reaching the room too late. He growled in a feral manner when he saw the Romanian vampire dead, snapping his old cavalry sword from its sheath, then charging forward and slashing at the Russian. The room filled with collective gasps as the larger country's scarf fell to the ground, ripped.

"You should not have done that, comrade," Ivan frowned and pulled a sword from its sheath, quickly swinging it.

The smaller darted out of the way and hissed, "You forget that swords are from my time." The sound of metal clashing with metal filled the room as others scrambled out of the path of the two quarreling nations.

"You might be more nimble and clever, but I had more strength and accuracy." The Russian growled as he snagged the other's top.

"A shame your so called accuracy is reduced to nothing when I'm your opponent. Confederate military strategies aren't even considered these days. Too bad, you could've had the upper hand," Connor taunted and darted around behind the Russian, slashing his lower back, making the other hiss.

"Low accuracy…but trust me, comrade, when I land a blow, it's going to leave more than a mark and some blood." Ivan snarled, continuing to lash out at the other, missing each time. The two were at it for a while before Ivan gave a final swing, releasing his sword and pinning the other to the wall. The Russian sneered before walking over, only stopping abruptly when Connor held his own sword up, to the other's throat.

"You don't have the foggiest clue what you've just done!" Connor coughed, "Vlad was a crucial part to Alfred's survival and you just killed him!"

Ivan just gave a creepy smile, "The vampire had no reason to keep living, da?"

"He _needed_ to keep living!" Connor spat in the Russian's face, making Ivan recoil. "You've just doomed the world, I hope you realize that! And I can't tell you how or I'd be betraying a friend and ally!"

"You _are_ my ally and you just attacked me," Ivan replied curtly.

"You aren't worth being allies with." Connor replied in a sour voice, removing the sword from the wall as well as his shirt. "Not when you're responsible for a country's death and falling part. Not when you're responsible for millions of people about to live in total anarchy. Not when you've just killed thousands of innocent civilians." Ivan remained silent as he pulled a pistol from his inside coat pocket, holding it the other's forehead. "Go ahead and kill me. I dare you, Russia. And if you do pull the trigger, congratulations on terminating half the world."

"The world would be better off without another greedy capitalist pig," Yao, the representative of China, scoffed. The Chinese man had long, dark brown, almost black, hair tied in a loose ponytail that draped over his left shoulder. Gold-brown eyes flamed with hatred for the American.

"Funny you should call Alfred a greedy capitalist pig, Yao. America is becoming a beggar nation, yes, but Alfred has donated billions of dollars to dozens of other countries to help them and their people. He's donated more than the next 10 countries combined. Let's take the Haitian earthquake for example. Alfred and his people donated over a billion dollars to them. You on the other hand only donated little under a million. And you have the highest population of people in the world, Yao. How's that, for a 'greedy, capitalist pig'?" Yao said nothing and Ivan cocked the gun. Connor shifted his gaze to the taller man, "You kill me, and you crash American economics. You crash American economics, and then you crash the world economy. You crash the world economy…there goes the neighborhood. Think, Ivan." Connor let the Russian's weapon clatter to the floor.

The smaller sheathed his own sword and walked over to Alfred, untying his brother and heaving his weakened brother over his shoulder and left the room with a huff. _You tried Vladimir… You did your best… Thank you… Now it's up to Alfred to save us._

* * *

"Who are you?!" Alfred screamed up at the sky, sitting on the ground, holding his hands over his ears, his forehead on his knees as he tried to shut out the noise. "Make it stop!" He screeched, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

_"Why..? Why can't you ever see things through to the end?!"_

_"You know why…"_

_"How could you be so self-centered? Your own mother is dead and it's your fault!"_

_"I want nothing more to do with it! Get out of my sight!"_

_"Don't you dare think I won't shoot you."_

_"Then what's stopping you? You're too weak to kill me."_

_"No, I'm strong enough not to. What have you become? Some savage beast of sorts, that's what."_

_"Back off, Jones, haven't you done enough already?"_

_"Can't you see we don't need your help?"_

_"More like we don't want your help; Alfred."_

_"And the wise man said, 'Get the hell out'!"_

_"You're no hero! You're a fraud!"_

"NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Alfred screeched and hurled himself forwards, hands still clutched over his head, still trying to shut out the noise. He ran blinded by tears through empty space, tripping and falling forwards, his glasses clattering to the ground in front of him. He lay on the ground for a while, weeping into the sleeve of his jacket. Eventually he sat up and put his glasses back on, looking at his surrounding for the first time in a while. There was nothing but pitch black surrounding him, but he could see his own body when he looked. He looked around again, searching for some way out. Staggering to his feet he began to walk in some direction. Suddenly an image erupted in front of him, knocking him backwards.

"_Hey, Arthur, all I want is my freedom! I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother. From now on, consider me…independent!"_

The present day Alfred stared at the scene appearing before him, something rooting him to the spot to watch the rain poor down on his former self.

_Revolutionary Arthur charged forwards, swinging his bayonet down at the younger Alfred. The American just barely blocked the strike, only to have his weapon knocked from his hands. Behind him, his army was set to fire, seeing as the British man had his bayonet to Revolutionary Alfred's head. "I won't allow it. You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?" The younger Alfred stared past the bayonet tip warily, looking into furious emerald eyes. "There's no way I could shoot you, I can't." Arthur threw his weapon down, sinking to the mud, breaking down into tears, "Why! Tell me why! It's not fair…"_

_"You know why…" the past Alfred looked down at the Briton, head held high._

The present day Alfred suddenly propelled forward, trying to embrace the sobbing Englishman, only to have the vision fade into wisps as he touched it. Alfred once again fell onto his face. He sprang back to his feet and kept running to nowhere in particular. A particularly loud gunshot made him jump and seize running to look to his left.

_A younger Alfred, but older than the Revolution, was standing over a younger looking Connor, who was glaring up at him. The Civil War era Alfred held a gun with a cocked revolver to the elder brother's head. "Look up at me," Alfred demanded. Connor didn't budge. "Don't think that I won't shoot you."_

_"Then what's stopping you?" Connor challenged, "You're too weak to kill me." Dead bodies of their people lay on the muddy battlefield around them. _

_"No," Alfred lowered the gun, "I'm strong enough not to. What have you become, Connor?" As the younger American started to walk off, he uttered a simple, "Some savage beast of sorts, that's what."_

_The younger Confederate unsheathed his cavalry sword and swung it at the retreating Union soldier. The blue clad whipped around with his own sword unsheathed, deflecting the attack. After tackling the older to the muddy, slippery ground, the Union Alfred withdrew a sword coated in a film of poison. "Alfred no, you're crazy! That surely isn't what I think it is!"_

_"If you think it's the only poison in the world that can kill a nation, then you'd be correct."_

Present day Alfred lurched forward in what seemed like slow motion, desperate to stop his former self from ending his brother's life. He was milliseconds too late. The vision disappeared the second he touched it, but the former Confederacy's shriek of agony still echoed in his ears. Alfred wailed again and clasped his hands over his ears, springing forward in vain to escape the dreams.

The more he ran though, the more of his history sprang up to greet him. Things he would normally not remember jumped at him, reminding him of all his flaws and mistakes. He was suddenly made aware of how stubborn, ignorant, and arrogant he was. How he thought he'd helped so many people but only ended up making them suffer more in the end. How he was suddenly aware of things he should've done but never did. Opportunities he'd missed out on. Chances he would never have again. Something lithe and silver darted around in the corner of his sight. "Get back here, mutt!" Alfred yelled, bolting after the multiple tailed foxlike creature. The kitsune yelped and panicked, spurring itself faster.

The American took a mighty leap and landed on the smaller canine, twisting its paw and threatening to break its jaw if it didn't stop struggling. "Send me back you stupid dog! I don't want anything to do with these dreams and illusions you cast on me!" The kitsune gave a high pitched bark before shocking Alfred with electricity. He flinched and the creature scrambled away. "Come back!" Alfred roared, still in hot pursuit of the kitsune.

Eventually he lost it in what appeared to be the heart of a volcano. The ground was charred and grey but scorched the soles of his shoes. Where there was no ground, lava flowed like a river. Rock crags jutted out everywhere and Alfred heard noises from the other side of one. Deciding to investigate, Alfred hurried through a tunnel that lead to the other side of the rock wall. The American also silently agreed with himself that it would be best to approach as a wolf, morphing to his full wolf forme without a second thought.

"I smell a mongrel nearby…" a hefty man grumbled. Alfred pricked his ears and looked at the man who spoke with a heavy German accent. He wore nothing but a black tank top and military style jeans and boots. Scars covered his muscular arms and dog tags dangled around his neck. A black cap kept the man's blond hair hidden for the most part.

"What? Never seen a werewolf in Hell, you stupid German doppelganger?" a smaller man spoke in an Italian accent. He reminded Alfred a lot of Feliciano. Only instead of a blue uniform, this Italian had a dark brown uniform and bright ruby eyes.

"That's quite rude, _fratello_. Luciano, you ought to get along better with Lutz." Another Italian, older, scolded. He was quite fashionable, and that was no understatement. The blond Italian wore shades over his magenta eyes, a fashion scarf, and a black shirt of sorts with a fine white jacket over it and red gloves. And forget the black jeans that he made work with his outfit somehow.

Lutz, the German, snorted, "At least join us, flea bag." Alfred gave a sniff of disapproval but padded over and stood before them. "Sit. We're about to discuss things." Alfred complied begrudgingly. The more doppelgangers of his fellow nations appeared, the more uncomfortable Alfred felt. Suddenly there was an eruption of color and Alfred went blind briefly, finding himself immersed in blackness again.

_"The year is defined. Nations have taken advantage of your absence. Your brother has been unable to take control of what you left him with – a big mangled mess of nothing. America is not the global super power anymore." _ A voice seemed to bounce off cave walls. Alfred stood, frozen to his spot. _"Hopeless!"_

_"The year is undefined. Two countries battle it out for world power status. China has fallen. America becomes number one leading poverty. Mexico and Canada have begun pressing United States borders." _ A new voice, yet Alfred is still paralyzed. Something liquid-y splashes at his paws. _"Filthy!"_

_"The year is undefined. A new world power has emerged." _Yet another new voice adds itself to the murk and muddle that is Alfred's mind. The rising liquid the American identifies as water laps at his belly, a current beginning to flow. _"Worthless!"_

_"The year is defined. Europe has just been discovered. The United States claims land and names it England. Canada has claimed a land named France before America. The Ottoman Empire is the global power, though America is rising to meet the challenge."_

_"The year is undefined. The Black Plague invades newly founded Russia. China has surpassed America and the Ottoman Empire. A Civil War breaks out in Canada. The belligerent nation that has formed in the uprising succeeds and becomes its own nation."_

_"The year is undefined. England declares independence from America. You are dissatisfied. You crush the uprising and dash all hope of your colony. You kill their nation representative. Canada's belligerent nation is in the way of what you want. You decide he is not worth it and kill thousands of their people. They resist. Your colony's people and the belligerent nation's people are brought to your country and forced into concentration camps. You shamelessly murder everyone in gas chambers or through medical testing. You capture their nation representative and blood tests prove he is directly related to you. You keep him as a slave."_

_"The year is defined. You gain control of the world power. They resist every step of the way. You beat and strike them down until they are nearly beaten to death. You achieve supreme world power. You make nations starve and live in poverty. You are stressed. You have multiple nation representatives as your slaves. You keep them caged like animals. Some turn cannibalistic. You do nothing to stop them."_

_"The year is undefined. Your relative starts a rebellion. Nations rise to uneasy agreement. You strike him down and he becomes your sex slave. He does not last a month. You are still dissatisfied. You slaughter everyone in your possession until they see stars, then revive them and repeat the process until they are lifeless and you are sure all of their blood has been spilled." _By now, the water had a crushing weight to it and was a raging current. Alfred was still paralyzed, unmoving, letting his body get battered by the black, suffocating current. _"Guilty."_

All the voices of people he knew began talking all at once in his head, echoing forever. His past Bosses, his fellow nations, his family, his people, everyone. _"Alfred worthless alive help life highway us hero fraud we time save are travel nobody suffering vampire us only silver hopeless you world copper can isn't game help is welcome us forever shooting make new change it ending older to goners guilty the war years right suffer dumb ending blood leaf the murdered fallen world cold failure is lost friends going fake phony to infinite shadow splinter killer prey and weak bones crack pathetic dream in loner forgotten half be gone if suffer death you broken brother do prayer rhythm not depart love save shout heart us never heard all."_

Alfred said nothing, refusing to. He only wished the water crushing him to death in its wake would drag him down and wash away all his problems.

* * *

**AN:/** The three nations that kidnapped Alfred are supposed to be unnamed. I actually know who they are but haven't created generic human names for them yet. If you REALLY want to know though; the softer voice is Israel, the harsh voice is Iran, and the cold voice is Afghanistan. I haven't really bothered to create human names for them yet so I just let them be voices. I know. I killed Romania (I call him Vlad - short for Vladimir) and I promised he'd have a big part in the story. This isn't the end of Vlad, I swear! I swear he shows up more! Dx This chapter really isn't as big of a mindfuck as I planned it to be...

Let's see who can figure out what the voices were trying to tell Alfred. Somehow Microsoft Word does not recognize that huge jumble of words as grammar error…huh. Oh well, not complaining. Word can't even get basic grammar right anyway XD But yeah, it is possible to decode the message in the word jumble. There's a method to my madness, I promise. Three in the morning logic. It actually took me a while to figure out how to hide the message. I was literally up all night typing this so forgive any spelling or grammar errors, seeing as I also don't have a beta. If this chapter doesn't make any sense…good, that's what I want. I want the whole plot to be a scribble-y line. One of those plots where you think you got it figured out but then I throw I monkey wrench at you and it just throws off everything you thought you had. Yeah…have I thrown a monkey wrench at anybody yet?

This chapter has two songs! Also a random feature song to add feels~  
_Until the End _by Breaking Benjamin | _Hopeless_ by Breaking Benjamin  
_Pokemon Mystery Dungeon 2: I Don't Want to Say Goodbye - _Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky

Yeah I'm a Pokemon nerd. As if you didn't gather that from my username already xD I still watch the anime and play the video games. I still like them. Sue me. Faves and reviews are appreciated as always!

Love, Alex


	7. Chapter 7: Your Heart Will Lead You Home

_Chapter 7: Your Heart Will Lead You Home_

"But you know, we may not be so different in the end," a voice sighed. Alfred was groggy, and he didn't plan on opening his eyes. A cool hand brushed his forehead. "I hope you wake up soon, Alfred…" The American stirred a bit; enough to alert to the other to his awareness. It took some effort and help from the stranger, but Alfred managed to sit up and lean against what he presumed to be a tree. He cracked his eyes open. Pain seared through his entire body and he noticed he was his human self with canine appendages. He turned his head slowly to look at the stranger, also taking note that he wasn't wearing his glasses. The stranger slid them on for him, seeming to read Alfred's mind.

Alfred squeaked, a bit shocked at the stranger. A hat angled offset the center of his head with red and white ribbons streaming from it. The dark blue outfit the stranger wore struck a string of familiarity somewhere deep within Alfred. Bright ruby eyes watched Alfred intently, a childish smile painted the other's face, exposing long, sharp canines. The Romanian flag pin really hit a memory of sorts but it wasn't trigged. But oh _God_ those _fangs_, "Do I…know you?"

"Not as well as I'd like…" the stranger hopped up onto a tree branch and Alfred had to crane his neck to see. He took his sweet time in doing so, however. Alfred took careful note of the delicate scenery around him. Bright, vibrant wildflowers sprang out of lush green grass. A small pond so clean you could see the smooth stones at the bottom was to his right. Further in the distance were rows of seemingly endless mountains. Birds sang and the sun shone brilliantly overhead. The sweet smell of mountain air clashed in harmony with the sound of busy bumble bees. Alfred jumped, startled, when the man swung down from the tree upside down, hanging to the tree branch with his knees bent and hooked over the branch. Somehow the man's hat stayed on.

"So…where am I? Am I dead?" Alfred asked.

The stranger laughed, "Silly American. This is a fantasy world your mind conjured up to escape pain, da?" Alfred shivered at the too familiar use of the foreign word 'yes'. But the man didn't even have a tint of a Russian accent to his speech. A strong accent was present, but Alfred was unable to pin its exact location. "You are becoming quite immersed in your fantasy world, Alfred. It's not good. You want to go home yet you plunge yourself deeper in your own self suffering and withdrawal. You, sir, are a legend of your own time and mind." The other laughed then looked off into the distance. With a small smile but a sad look in his eyes, "You may not be dead…but I am."

"Who are you?" Alfred panicked a bit.

"The name is Vladimir Dimitri. Country and nation representative and personification of the Kingdom of Romania; formerly known as Transylvania. Declared independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1877 and my neighbors consist of Bulgaria, Hungary, Serbia, Ukraine, and Moldova, although Miss Elizaveta does not think fancy of me… I am close friends with Lukas, Gilbert, and Arthur. Formerly communist during World War Two when I was invaded...err…attacked by Ludwig and Ivan; but in today's time, currently a democracy and capitalist. Yes I am a vampire, and contrary to popular American belief, I do not sparkle, I do not melt at Holy Water, silver bullets do not kill me, garlic and pumpkin spice don't do anything, I do not disintegrate to a pile of ash when exposed to sunlight, and fire doesn't hurt me unless you've ripped me apart limb for limb. I don't hate werewolves and yes I can turn into a bat; a grey-headed flying fox bat. But you can just call me Vlad." The Romanian sighed and gave a brief memo of his existence.

"Oh…" Alfred was quiet for a moment before grinning a bit, "What about Dracula and Bram Stoker? Did you know them?"

Vlad smirked a bit, "I hate to burst your mythological bubble, Jones, but Count Dracula did exist. We Romanians joke he's the father of all vampires. He was one of the coolest guys I ever met! Although he didn't like talking about his past much, Mister Dracula was the best sorcerer of his day and time! I learned a handful of my magic and sorcery from him, actually."

"Arthur is into that kind of stuff too. If he wasn't so into cursing his spells might actually work…" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Arthur and I actually had a magic club when we went to Gakuen High School. Lukas was there too. You remember Gakuen High, don't you?" Vlad inquired.

"How could I forget?" Alfred huffed, earning another laugh.

"Yeah, Arthur is a bit of a stick in the mud. Lukas was usually the one who kept us in line. He's the wizard, Arthur is the warlock, and I'm the sorcerer. Sure it's all magic, but there are different forms of it. Lukas is more of a mythical creature summoning guy, Arthur leans more towards black magic, and I like playing with potions and spell books~ In fact, I'm the only one out of the three of us who has mastered time travel!" The Romanian babbled; glad to have some company who was enjoying their conversation for once.

"That's all fine and dandy and all but… Wait. Did you say time travel?" Alfred snapped his head up to look at the vampire.

"Yeah I said time travel. Arthur has tried it but somehow ended up summoning some dark spirit. Lukas tried too. He's only ever succeeded once, all the other times a troll or fairy shows up and scolds him. Time travel is a hard thing to master. Time looping is even harder…especially when the person you're trying to save doesn't know how to help himself…" Vlad sighed then yawned. He closed his eyes and turned to a bat right before Alfred's eyes. The nation of Romania hung upside down the tree branch as a little bat, his wings folded around his body.

Alfred snatched the bat from the tree, making the Romanian give a noise of protest. "Dude! First you're absolutely freaking adorable," Alfred pet the bat's head then stroked the brown fluff around Vlad's neck. "Second, you gotta send me back to prevent all of this from ever happening!"

Vlad grunted, flailing about in Alfred's fist until he managed to squirm his chest out of Alfred's fist to breath. Panting for air, Vlad straightened the little hat on his head that had shrunk down with his transformation. "I can only go so far back in time! And my magic isn't exactly useful in your fantasy world, Alfred. Something about these parallel worlds restricts magic… Now if you would be so kind as to let go of me! You're suffocating me!"

"Sorry," Alfred apologized and released the bat suddenly, the Romanian flopping to the ground ungracefully. The bat balanced on his back feet…paws?...and dusted his fur clean with webbed wings. "You're actually pretty big for a bat."

Vlad snorted, "Only 8 inches with a 2 foot wingspan. Smaller than your average bat for this species." Alfred stared in awe as the bat spread his wings to show the 'small' wingspan.

Alfred shook his head, "Most bats in North America are only 4 to 7 inches." Alfred sighed as the flying fox flew up to the tree branch, hung upside down, and folded his wings over himself again. "So why are you here? I didn't dream about you or create you."

The Romanian opened a sleepy eye, "You need to find your brother."

"Who, Connor? He took my place as the United States on earth."

"…Your _real_ brother." Vlad sighed and closed his eye again.

"What do you mean my real brother?" Alfred growled.

"That Connor down there on earth isn't really Connor. No. _That _Connor is a kitsune. You've been misled this whole time. The kitsune may have been helpful at points, but didn't you notice something off about it? Your brother is no prude, for starters." Vlad kept his eyes closed.

Alfred facepalmed, "How do you know that about my brother..?"

"Easy. Gilbert helped him during the U.S. Civil War. Gilbert is one of my rare friends. He tells me stuff." Vlad opened his eyes, giving Alfred a mischievous look, "Like how West Virginia came into being."

"Ack! No! Don't go there! Don't _ever_ bring up my kids like that! Male pregnancy is not natural!" Alfred wailed, hiding his face in embarrassment. The bat simply cackled in amusement. "You've had your share of male pregnancy anyway…"

"Actually no. My population consists of Romanians, a few minorities, and Hungarian immigrants. You I actually understand. Mister Cultural Melting Pot." Vlad snickered.

"Oh come on! I thought we all agreed on leaving cultural diversity out of my title!" Alfred pouted.

"Not much to discuss when one of your states came out of pure incest-" Vlad was cut off by Alfred grabbing him from the tree.

"Don't make me sit on you." Alfred threatened, narrowing his eyes. Vlad simply shrugged and turned back to his vampire form, promptly landing on Alfred's lap. After wrestling for a while, Alfred _still_ ended up sitting on the Romanian. Vlad was gasping for air and clawing at the ground, desperate to escape. Alfred gave a mocking laugh.

"You're _heavy_!" Vlad whined.

"Nope, you're just weak," Alfred stuck his tongue out. Vlad huffed and with a grunt of effort, bucked Alfred off his back and stood up, once again dusting himself off. "Hey! I thought you weren't the stereotypical Twilight vampire!"

"I never said that. I just said I didn't sparkle along with some other vampire stereotypes. I never said I didn't have vampire strength. Hey, when you're a nation representative you have to represent your people's stereotypes in some way or another. Just because we represent the majority of our people doesn't mean it's who we really are inside." Vlad gave a small smile.

"Huh…I never thought about it that way…" Alfred pondered, looking up at some clouds in thought.

"If we were humans…you might not be the way you are now. You represent the American people as a whole. And because of all the culture, I understand your mood swings." Vlad poked Alfred's slight stomach chub. "America is the most obese country in the world, which explains the chubbiness here." Alfred blushed and swatted the other's hand away from his slight chub. "And you're insanely strong. Inhumanely strong, to be honest. That could only come from being the super power of the world. But here…you're free of your duties as a nation and your true colors can fly. Let's evaluate. You're much more a serious person but you still enjoy a good prank now and again. While I was dressing your wounds I noticed that your muscle mass was more human as opposed to looking photo shopped. You don't even really need your glasses to see, do you? As a nation, you tend to be lazy in attending to matters and you always chow down on fast food. Here you've eaten healthy food and have been plenty active and intent on resolving issues that emerge."

Alfred blinked and let it all sink it. "It's nice to know that not everybody thinks I'm a fat, stupid, lazy American."

"Americans are far from stupid, Alfred. Great people and inventers have come from America. There's a difference between stupidity and lacking common sense. Nowadays, most of your people just lack common sense and the willpower to get up and do things to help themselves." Vlad pat the other's shoulder.

For a while the two sat in welcomed silence, watching the wind make ripples on the pond surface. Alfred was the first to break the silence, "Come on, and let's go find my real brother." The American got up, then pulled the vampire to his feet as well.

"Connor is by no means a fallen angel, or an angel of death. As far as I know, he's still a virtue angel." Vlad began walking, Alfred tagging along behind him.

"Virtue angel? What's that?" Alfred asked.

"Virtue angels are emotional angels. They live on earth and their primary existence is to bring joy to people. Usually they are nurturers, musicians, or artists. They can go invisible when they want, but most prefer to be in their human form. It's easy to find one, if you know what you're looking for. They have an atmosphere of cheer and an aura of ease. You'll be able to see them though, even if they are invisible. They wear silken white togas, like Arthur in his angel form, but they have wings that give off a golden sheen when the light reflects just right." Vlad smiled.

"So do you know where we're going?" Alfred dished out another question.

"I know exactly where we're going. Connor is like your guardian angel, too, Alfred. He's been invisible this whole time though, you've never seen him because you've never crossed to the spiritual worlds until now. He's watching over America in his own way, trust me. He won't let that kitsune do anything to America. After all, it is his country too, in a way. Is it not?" Vlad continued walking.

Alfred once again fell silent, letting himself think peacefully for the first time in a while. It wasn't until the duo reached a bridge connecting the spirit world and the real world that Alfred spoke. "Hey Vlad… The mock Connor told me something interesting. That only one nation had ever escaped this kind of thing. Is that true? And if it is, can you tell me who it is?"

"You're looking at him," Vlad chuckled.

Alfred sighed contentedly, "I knew it…but…why are you helping me?"

Vlad sighed, "A lot of nations really care about you Alfred. But they won't say so because of their pride or their reputation. And to be honest…I care about you too. I don't want to see another nation flounder and die because of some stupid curse. Now…do you trust me with your life, Alfred?"

Alfred hesitated for a moment before nodding. At that, he was instructed to change to his werewolf form and after doing so, Vlad changed to his bat form and the two headed down the gateway. "Wait…I thought I couldn't go back this way and it would only plunge me deeper into my mind."

"Not if you're in your spiritual guide form. The werewolf is your spiritual guide. You'll be okay, but you won't be able to get back to your body this way." Vlad fluttered up onto Alfred's back. "Onwards." And with that, Alfred gave a giddy yip and charged forward down the gateway.

* * *

It was several days later before the two finally reached their destination. A widely untouched piece of land in northern United States was where they ended up. It was beautiful there. Almost an exact replica of where Alfred had woken up to see Vlad. Only this area was more densely wooded and a bit chillier given the time of year. The pond was yet to come into view but Alfred could smell the fresh mountain air from where he was. Most likely due to his enhanced sense of smell. The faint sound of a flute drifted through the woods and Alfred headed that direction, despite his exhaustion.

He padded through the trees, pace quickening. When he finally saw the pond, he was curious. An angel sat cross legged on the ground, his back to Alfred, goldish tinted wings folded neatly over his back. Fairy tale and mythical creatures lay or perched in the clearing, listening to the song. Alfred looked around at the creatures. A unicorn, a Pegasus, a satyr, some pixies, and other creatures Alfred could not place a name to. They did not even stir when Alfred, some enormous werewolf, padded into the clearing tired and weary. The wolf laid down next the angel, lapping at the water in the pond a little. Vlad hopped off Alfred' head and settled in a soft patch of grass nearby.

The blond angel kept playing the sweet, harmonious song until it was over. The clearing was silent for a while after he finished, not even the wind dared to disturb such a perfect, peaceful silence. Eventually the wind rustled brittle branches and the birds began to chirp and sing songs of their own. The angel put his flute away and pet Alfred's head, stroking his fur in such a soft, tender, caring way. "Hi Alfred," he spoke quietly. Alfred pricked his ears and gave a soft whine, looking into the angel's eyes. In that brief moment of connection, Alfred realized that _this_ was his real brother. Alfred sighed happily and nudged the real Connor's chest with his snout. Connor gave a gentle smile and continued to smooth out his younger brother's tangled fur until Alfred fell into an easy sleep. It was only for a few minutes though. Alfred lifted his head up and gave his brother and big, sloppy, dog kiss. Alfred flopped to the grass and rolled onto his back, satisfied at the disgusted look Connor wore. The angel took off his glasses and, after shooting Alfred another dirty glare, washed his face and glasses off in the pond. Quickly dabbing his glasses dry with his toga and sliding them back on; Connor gave a small cry of surprise when Alfred gave a curious sniff at his neck, goosing him with a cold, wet nose.

"You're nothing but an overgrown pup," Connor huffed as Alfred nosed through his hair, tipping his halo askew.

"I get that a lot," Alfred gave a low bark, "So you're the real Connor, huh? You haven't changed a bit." The wolf wagged his tail steadily.

"Because I've always had wings and a halo," The older rolled his eyes.

"Besides that, I mean." Alfred huffed then began to give curious sniffs at the gold tinted wings. A simple prod at the base of the wings where the wings were connected the body was enough to make the angel give Alfred a firm slap with his wings, as they thrust outwards from their folded position. Alfred sat back on his haunches, curious as to what just happened. He tilted his head and gave a soft whine upon seeing his brother whip around in an almost shocked fashion.

"Geez…you jerk… You don't mess with that spot on any winged angel… It's sensitive…" Connor scolded, though it didn't really sound like he was scolding anybody. The angel settled back down and folded his wings back neatly, but this time making sure they covered the sensitive spot.

"What?" Alfred asked cheekily, pouncing on his brother, pinning him to the ground, "Sensitive as in ticklish?"

"No, sensitive like _this_," And at the final word, the angel gave a swift yank at the American's cowlick – Nantucket, as Alfred had called it. Alfred yelped and reeled backwards, landing almost a good ten feet away, curled up in a little ball, paws over his cowlick.

"You're the only one being a jerk! You _know_ what that does to me!" Alfred wailed unhappily. His face was burning and he was thankful for the fur that covered his surely scarlet face.

"And now you know how I felt when you tapped the spot on my back," Connor snorted and sat back up.

"Wh-whatever… We are not going there…" Alfred gave a pouting growl. Connor huffed and nodded in silent agreement.

After the two calmed their nerves Vlad flew up and sat on Alfred's head, "Could you at least tell us what's going on in real time, Connor?"

The angel stood up and motioned to the werewolf and bat to follow. It wasn't much further that the trio was walking down a narrow pathway with thick overgrowth prodding at them. The path opened up to a wide space but that was it. There was nothing but bushes and looming trees. The bat and wolf looked around, Alfred a bit flustered.

"The spirit world of where we are now connects to the real world here. Though we may only pass through as spirits. We can't interfere with reality simply because we can't be heard or seen. We exist side by side the real realm and walk among them. But slowly the world is coming apart, and I mean that figuratively and literally." Connor stated. "Are you willing to venture on?"

"Of course," Alfred gave an excited bark. At that, the angel nodded and tugged some bushes apart, revealing a simple path that leads downhill. Alfred peeked over the edge, staring into a dark abyss.

* * *

**AN:/** Shhh…I know grey-headed flying foxes are only found in Australia…Shhh I just love them. They are the cutest bats eveerrrrr *squee* and you better Google them. They are so cute and fluffeh! All the Romanian native bats were gross and ugly…sorry Vlad. Headcanon that he loves all bats?

Hehehe… *trollface* you guys thought that the Connor from the past chapters was the real deal? NAW. You should pay more attention to detail, my friends! Haven't you noticed by now that there is always something offset about the character if they're actually a kitsune? For examples… Arthur is Vlad's friend.. In chapter 1 or 2, the fake Arthur called Vlad a 'blood sucking leech' in a non-joking manner. And since somebody already pointed it out; Ludwig is a prude. Isn't a bit out of character for the real Ludwig to call somebody else a prude when he's a prude himself? Likewise, there have been sprinkles everywhere throughout the story that the real Connor is quiet and would rather not fight. Meanwhile, the fake Connor has been talking nonstop and engaged willingly in fighting. You get it now? Pay more attention my dears~

Ah…a nice short chapter. I needed a shorter chapter. And it's a nice short chapter with not much going on for once. I had a pleasant time writing this chapter. I needed this, really…

This chapter's song:  
_Your Heart Will Lead You Home_ by Kenny Loggins

Faves and reviews are appreciated as always! Have I thrown a monkey wrench at anybody yet? Don't lie – I got you ALL with the fake Connor. ;) Also can we please hold the phone and celebrate the fact that I'm actually following through on a story for once? :'D

Love, Alex

…I got you all. Don't lie. :D


	8. Chapter 8: Behind Blue Eyes

**AN:/ WARNING**: CHAPTER CONTAINS _**CHILD RAPE**_.

* * *

_Chapter 8: Behind Blue Eyes_

"So…tell me again why we're in London?" Alfred asked, the werewolf trying to find a gap in the traffic to run across to the other side of the street, where Arthur's world famous clock tower was.

"Big Ben has the highest concentration of magical energy. It's a popular place for spiritual creatures to discuss current events, so it's a good place for you to catch up on what you've missed in reality. There's a place like this is most major countries. In Canada, the CN Tower; in America, the Empire State Building; the United Kingdom has Big Ben; France is the Eiffel Tower; and so on and so forth. Major buildings that are taller have the tendency to be social gathering places for spirits as well as people." Vlad explained.

Connor nodded in agreement then stepped blindly into traffic. Alfred flinched when he was sure Connor would be smashed by a double decker but saw they passed right through each other. Oh yeah. Alfred had been told earlier that they as spirits couldn't influence anything in reality, so it must work the other way around too. Alfred charged forwards into the traffic, galloping to the other side of the street. Connor gestured to the clock tower and the trio headed inside, headed all the way to the top where the bells were. "Big Ben is still an impressive infrastructure," Alfred looked around at the gleaming bells in the tower. His gaze rested on a massive bell hanging in the middle of the room. "Whoa, that's a big bell."

"That's Big Ben, Alfred." Connor commented. Alfred shot him a funny look.

Vlad simply chuckled, "Big Ben is the name of the Great Bell. However, over the years, the term Big Ben has become synonymous with the entire tower. The tower, as of 2012, is actually called the Queen Elizabeth Tower. The four smaller bells you see chime ever quarter hour and Big Ben only chimes every hour."

"Huh… The more you know." Alfred shrugged. "I haven't seen any other creatures around here except us, though."

"Big Ben is about to chime. It'll blow your ears out if you have sensitive hearing and you're directly under it when it chimes. The other creatures are waiting for it to go off." Connor noted.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." A magnificent griffon stated, stepping out of the shadows. "We only heard of a canine coming so we all hid, thinking it was a kitsune approaching." The griffon was brownish in colour, his front to his stomach was eagle and his hindquarters were that of a lion. Pristine goldish-white wings sprouted from his back. A trait, Alfred noted was off, was the creature's glistening emerald eyes and its strong Spanish accent.

"Oui, we can't be too sure anymore," a lion-like gargoyle also slid out of the shadows of the tower's top floor. It looked like one of the gargoyles from the Notre Dame building in France. Alfred noticed this, remember the time he traveled with Walt Disney to learn about the popular tourist attraction. The creature had a gleam of mischief in its sapphire eyes, and its mane was golden and wavy and flowed beautifully.

Something seemed oddly familiar about these two… "Antonio? Francis?" Alfred asked. The griffon and gargoyle smiled and nodded. Alfred's tail wagged so quickly that it didn't go side to side, but instead went around in a windmill fashion. "I almost didn't recognize you! Who else is here?"

"Well Arthur is around here somewhere, and so are many other nations suffering narcolepsy," Antonio sat and folded his wings to his body.

"Speak of the devil," Francis sneered, watching as a silvery horse like creature finished scrambling up the last few steps. At first glance, Alfred thought the newcomer was a unicorn, but closer inspection revealed that it had wings like a Pegasus and a single spiral horn as well…and most notable eyebrows. Alfred easily put two and two together and yipped happily at who he presumed to be Arthur. The horse creature stumbled, spooked at the bark but quickly regained his composure and joined the other five creatures.

"Shut up pretty boy," Arthur huffed, swatted the French gargoyle spirit with his wing.

Francis just snickered and swatted the other back with a webbed wing, startling the mythical horse. Arthur gave a snort and stepped on Francis' paw with his hoof, making the French nation give a yelp of pain. The gargoyle recovered and punched Arthur square in the chest, sending the horse a good distance backwards. Arthur gave a violent snort before lowering his head and charging forwards. Francis just smirked and caught the Briton by the horn, flipping the larger over him, flying into Antonio, who gave an ungracious squawk of dismay. At this point, the Spanish griffon decided to keep the two separated to the best of his ability. "So what's up with you being here, amigos?"

"It's Alfred who got you all tangled in this situation." Connor stated.

Alfred growled at his older brother, "Don't make this seem like it's my entire fault!" The werewolf gave a ferocious snarl, baring his fangs.

Connor snapped at the younger, "Shut it, before I muzzle you." Alfred's fur bristled but he quieted down, a low growl still rumbling in his throat. "Alfred has to pass through the various check points, along with the rest of us here. Seeing as you all hold an important key to Alfred's past…where is Ivan?"

A sudden chill swept over the floor and the crackling of ice made itself noticed. A pale silver wolf with long fur crept up the stairs, everyone present watching in frozen panic. The creature that now stood at the top of the stairs turned to stare at them with deep violet eyes that seemed like they could devour anything. The wolf was, if Alfred were to guess, six feet tall. A white scarf was wound around the newcomer's neck. "Greetings comrades, you called, da?"

Alfred's fur no longer stood up in frustration, but now out of fear and spite. The blond werewolf's lips curled back in a snarl, rising to his paws, his ears, tail, and head perked in an assertive manner. The silver wolf just stared back with a chill expression, even smirking a little. "Ivan." Alfred spat the name into the tension spiked air.

"Privet, Alfred," the Russian accent buzzed Alfred's ears like a swarm of angry bees. Ivan dipped his head as a greeting of sorts before trotting over and joining the group. Alfred sat down, his baby blue eyes locking with deep violet eyes.

"Ahem," Vlad cleared his throat. Everyone turned to glance at the bat, joining in a rather loose circle together. "As Connor was saying, Alfred needs to pass through various check points. All of you are crucial to parts of Alfred's history. He'll go berserk if he can't distinguish fact from fiction. You'll all need to pass through check points in various locations to trigger deeply rooted parts of both Alfred's memory and his history."

"And why should we help?" Ivan asked in a voice as cold as ice.

"You'll all die if Alfred doesn't make it out of this situation alive." Connor stated bluntly. A chill ran through the room that was not triggered by Ivan's presence. "Once the first check point is passed, there's no going back. If Alfred cannot face his past, then there's no hope. And if he chooses not to proceed with this, then there's no chance the world will continue as it should be."

"If Alfred fails to face his past or abandons us all, the world falls into total anarchy from the collapse of America and other large countries. In other words…nobody gets out alive. Failure or unwillingness means death to us all and we may as well go check into Hell right now." Vlad put in firmly.

All eyes turned to Alfred now. Oh man was the pressure on, too. The golden furred werewolf sat there in silence for a seemingly impossible amount of time. Ivan shuffled his paws impatiently, Connor's feathers ruffled slightly, tension radiating off Francis and Arthur, Antonio twitching his tail. Alfred stared at the floor, looking at the patterns in the wood as he thought. He finally looked up after an infinite amount of time, "Show me the first check point."

"For now, we wait until midnight. The first check point gateway is through the tower's north clock face." Vlad gave an approving nod, "Which is nice considering we have a few minutes until then; remember, time in the spirit world is faster than time in reality."

"Come this way," Arthur nodded his head in a direction before walking off towards the north face of the tower. The group followed the mythical horse-like creature, Vlad fluttering quickly to get to the front.

"You only have from the time the chimes start to the time the chimes stop. I cannot stress enough that all of you must pass through the same gateway in the same time frame. Be strong and make sure you can separate what's real and what's fake." Vlad cautioned. At the moment he finished, the clock tower came alive with the headache inducing sound of Big Ben. "Trust me!" Vlad yelled over the noise, "Just leap into the face of the clock! You'll be okay, I promise!"

Alfred tensed his muscles, took a breath, and with a mighty spring, took a leap of faith right into the face of the clock. Bracing himself for shards to pierce him, Alfred didn't expect to go sailing right through the clock and fly face first into a tree. The others that followed after him nearly crushed Alfred and knocked over the tree in the process. Ivan was the first to stagger to his paws, shaking out his icy fur. Slowly, the others managed to untangle themselves from the heap. "So where are we?" Ivan asked.

"Home," Alfred breathed upon sitting up. The scent of pine and oak were welcomed smells. The trickle of a stream and the mocking birds overhead surrounded Alfred. Sunlight filtering down through the leaves of tall sycamore and maple trees warmed Alfred in a familiar way. The group looked around at the inviting forest, allowing themselves to relax at the pleasant surroundings.

"We are not to interfere with anything and merely watch. Meddling with Alfred's memories will cause brain corruption as well as severe changes in history. A future in which is uncertain and a place you do not wish to see." Connor snapped. "And if my memory is still strong, we need to hide somewhere in this area."

Everyone quickly found a position to hide in, peering out in the clearing they were just in. A loud pair of kids suddenly barreled into the area, wrestling with each other. The children, Alfred realized, were him and Connor when they still lived in the Lakota tribe together. "Ha! Got you!" the child Alfred squealed, pinning his older brother to the leafy ground.

"Get off me, Eagle!" the older hissed before flipping their positions and tickling his younger brother.

"No! No!" the younger Alfred wailed through tears of laughter, "Falcon! Falcon stop! Please!"

"Say my full name!" The other laughed.

"Falcon's Liberty, I beg of you to st-stop tickling meeee!" the younger brother cried out. True to his word, Falcon's Liberty, the younger version of Connor, stopped and stepped back.

"Really, Eagle's Freedom, how are you going to be a warrior if you can't fight back?" Falcon asked.

Eagle's Freedom, younger Alfred, stood up in a huff, "How are we gonna ever be warriors? We're the oldest kids in our tribe but we're the smallest!"

"Mama says we're special. Even more special than Papa. Or at least we will be, when she dies and we grow up some more." Falcon sighed.

"I don't want Mama to ever die…" Eagle frowned.

"I don't either. But even if she does one day die, she can watch over us. Like the stars." Falcon hugged his little brother. "Mama told me that one day we would have to be really responsible warriors and take care of our own tribes. But…that the tribes would be of a lot of different people."

"So we're gonna be the chieftains of all the villages in the world?" Eagle's eyes widened at the very thought.

"Maybe not the whole world; maybe people from all over will come to our home and live together happily. And we'll be the chiefs together. Forever and ever." Falcon agreed with himself by giving a small nod.

Eagle's Freedom broke into a huge grin and hugged his brother, "I like that idea…yeah… Yeah! Let's go see the world together and make lots of friends with all the tribes we can!" At that, the two broke their hug and walked back in the direction they came.

Once the entire group could no longer hear the two boys, they crept from their hiding spots. "So who were those two kids?" Ivan asked, provoking Alfred in his own way.

"Falcon's Liberty is this one," Antonio nudged Connor.

"And Eagle's Freedom is this one," Arthur nodded to Alfred.

The two brothers looked seriously lost in thought. The memory seemed to strike a strong memory in Connor's own head, though no emotion shone through. Alfred, on the other hand, looked thoroughly depressed. "We didn't know we would one day be nations," Alfred whispered. "We didn't know there was more to the world than just the Native American tribes and the Aztec Empire. We had no clue that we would be inviting so many foreigners to our homes and one day being the homes to the most culturally diverse group in the truly entire world…"

Connor remained silent but gestured to follow as he led the way their younger selves went. Upon their tribe's camp coming into the view, he motioned to the other to stay close but far enough to see nearly all the activity going on in the camp. The angel and werewolf glanced up at the tree line, as did the tribe as smoke rose over the treetops. The rest of the group followed their gaze and the sounds of soldiers crashing through the woods filled the air. The tribe panicked and most women fled with their children to the safety of deeper forest growth. "The moment of truth is about to be revealed, huh?" Antonio whispered, sadness and regret sharp in his voice. Arthur, who was standing next to the griffon, noticed the Spaniard's talons sink into the soft earth.

The tribe's warriors quickly assembled and stood ready to fight the approaching danger. Just then, a younger Antonio crashed into the clearing, followed by his men. After shouting many actions in Spanish, the two sides clashed with all they had. The griffon stared at the ground, angry with himself. Gunshots and shrieks of agony rippled throughout the camp, most of the group watching in panic. After the dust settled, most of the tribe had fled or fallen at the hands of their enemies.

Everything seemed to freeze in place and turned grey, with the exception of the spirits watching. A sudden sensation of pain blasted through Antonio and the griffon gave a screech of agony, talons clawing at the ground and muscles growing rigid. A choking sound and the Spaniard's eyes grew huge like something sucking the life out of him. After nearly thirty seconds, Antonio gasped in a huge breath of air and collapsed to the ground, panting and scrabbling about as if he were a fish out of water. "Toni, mon ami," Francis was at his close friend's side, trying to calm the creature. "Is he having a seizure?!"

"I'm not -gah- having a seizure!" Antonio snapped, still twitching but managed to pull himself up to a sitting position with the Frenchman's help. "It was like a surge of an unknown energy source. I thought I'd been killed or something. I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes-" The rest was lost in garbled mixed Spanish that not even Francis, who usually understood most Spanish, could keep up with. Antonio was trembling by the time he'd finished his ramble and looked around the bleak forest fearfully, as if anticipating something to lunge out and attack them.

It seemed as though everyone except Connor was attempting to soothe the griffon's ruffled feathers, even Ivan tried his own attempt to calm the Spaniard. Arthur looked over at the angel, who had his back to the group. When questioned, Connor simply growled that somebody had to keep watch. Though the group continued to press him and when Alfred asked, the angel whipped around giving a feral snarl, "I want nothing more to do with the bastard."

The forest floor seemed to tremble and shift under them, though not in the way an earthquake would. It was like they were gliding across thousands of miles without even moving. Suddenly it stopped. The group moved through scarce trees until reaching a camp. "The Aztec Empire," Antonio breathed. They were still in the past, though it must have been Antonio's memory now and no longer Alfred's. Rows of clay and brick and rock houses lined red dusty streets. Spanish soldiers crawled all over the place and the natives were spooked but not mortified and it was painstakingly obvious the soldiers had been here a while. A teenager dressed in some nice handmade clothing from Spain sat up in the nook of a shabby tree. The boy had short black hair a small curl branched from an end near the back of his neck. His bright brown eyes were trained on the dark brown tabby kitten he was petting. The much younger child version of Connor – Falcon's Liberty – was walking idly through the streets. He looked awkward and uncomfortable in foreign clothing. Though he had grown since Alfred's memory; Falcon now had the body of a pre-teen boy.

Not even noticing the teen, Falcon leaned against the tree and slid the dirt sadly.

"It must suck to be taken from your family and friends, huh kid?" the boy in the tree spoke, startling Falcon.

"Oh what do you know…?" Falcon sighed, "You're just this Antonio's golden boy, aren't you, Tiger's Wisdom?"

The boy in the tree frowned and let his pet kitten drop to the ground before swinging down himself and sitting next to Falcon. "I told you. My name is Pablo Carriedo now, not Tiger's Wisdom. Just like you aren't Falcon's Liberty anymore; you're Connor Carriedo now."

"I don't like him, this Antonio guy. These names are all wrong and everything is backwards. Even the way they talk is funny." The younger pouted and leaned against Pablo.

"Well, you know, it's been a few decades since he brought you to my home. You've fought him every step of the way. Why not just…give in and try something for a change? Stop being so stubborn and enjoy yourself while you can." Pablo smiled cheerfully.

"There's nothing to enjoy." Connor huffed.

Just then a shriek of a woman erupted from one of the houses. A rather heavyset woman with a broom burst onto her porch, frantically yelling in Spanish and swatting at whatever tiny animal darting around. A small grey tabby kitten yowled in panic as it fled the house and leapt into the safety of Connor's arms, shaking like a leaf, dark navy eyes wide in terror. The younger Connor just held the kitten, feeling its rapid heartbeat fluttering in its chest. After calming down enough to grip what was going on in his surroundings, the kitten and the boy gave each other curious looks.

Connor scratched the kitten behind his ears and a loud purr rumbled in the kit's throat. A soft, fuzzy head pressed against Connor's chest. "You must be lonely too," Connor stated, stroking the kitten's short fur. A soft mew was his response. The kitten then hopped to the ground, only to be nuzzled by Pablo's older kitten. The brown tabby gave the grey tabby a few curious sniffs before grabbing the kit by its scruff and beginning to thoroughly groom him, much to the grey kitten's dismay. The two boys laughed.

"Speaking of which, you could also use a quick groom." Pablo noted the younger's hair was longer and a slight odor. "Poor lad, puberty is a bitch, isn't it?"

"I hate it. Really, I do. Sometimes I wake up and the hay is all wet…" The younger blushed furiously at the confession.

"That is quite stressful… You're growing rather slow for a nation, to be honest. Most would have already been _done_ with puberty by now." Pablo tilted his head slightly.

"Great to know I'm an underdeveloped nation," Connor muttered sarcastically.

"It's not that you're underdeveloped; your people just haven't changed much. That's all. Once your people find easier and more efficient ways to do things I'm sure you'll be caught up in no time." The older reassured.

"I still don't understand this entire nation deal. What about my brother, though? Is he a nation too?" Connor asked.

"I'm not too sure. Honestly it is very rare for nations to have blood relatives. It is highly possible your little brother is just another human. But if he is a nation, let's just hope in the future both your people get along and the blood of brothers does not have to be shed." Pablo replied.

The younger Connor shivered, "If that were ever to happen, no matter how much I'd hate him at the time, I could never bring myself to kill him. If there's to be bloodshed, it's not going to end with me spilling the blood of Eagle."

"I don't know… Time has a way of changing people and nations alike. How would you feel if your brother threatened everything – your people, your nation, even your very existence?" Pablo asked.

"Why would you ask something like that? Eagle is nothing like that! He wouldn't kill me just because we had different views on something…right?"

"It's hard to say, Connor…"

"But if he did…" the younger trailed off, then shook his head furiously, "No! I know him better than that! He would never do something like that! I trust my brother to the ends of the earth."

"You have to understand, Connor. A growing nation fights everyone who opposes them to achieve what they desire. Some nations go as far as viciously slaying somebody they've known their entire life." The friends sat in uncomfortable silence for a while after that.

"Hola," a younger version of Antonio walked over to the two.

The blond huffed, glaring daggers up at the Spaniard, only relaxing his gaze when Pablo nudged him. The boys gave a greeting back and Antonio sat in front of them. Antonio passed a food of sorts to Connor, "It's called a pomegranate. They're native to my home and one of the oldest known edible fruits." The Spaniard proceeded to retrieve two more pomegranates from his satchel, giving one to Pablo. Antonio withdrew a knife from his satchel as well, snapping it across the fruit and eating the now neatly sliced pomegranate like an orange.

Pablo took the knife from him and quickly split his and Connor's pomegranates. The three ate the ancient fruit quietly, discarding the peels back into Antonio's satchel for later disposal. "Gracias, Uncle," Pablo grinned.

"Si, gracias," Connor added quietly.

"No problem at all! Nothing like a few moments of family time," Antonio smiled and stood up. As he was walking away, the older paused and turned around, "Oh, I just remembered! Connor would you mind coming to my house after dinner tonight?"

"Oh uh…sure," The blonde shrugged. Antonio gave a gentle smile then continued on his way back to town. "What do you think he wants?"

"Maybe just to practice your Spanish. It took long enough for you two to be able to communicate without my help." Pablo laughed, even when the younger gave him a mock slap across the cheek. The duo sat and talked with each other for the rest of the afternoon, even walking to the mess hall together.

Meanwhile, the spirits watching were still trying to figure out why tensions were so spiked between the griffon and the angel. Aside from being torn from his brother, there was really nothing noticeable. "Don't let his damn innocent act fool you." The present day Connor snapped.

"It was not an act!" Antonio spat.

Connor hissed, "Damn right it wasn't."

"What I did-" Antonio was cut off by a fuming Confederate.

"What you did was unforgiveable and hit record dirty, sinful lows." The angel growled in a threatening manner and Antonio fell silent in rage and something else.

"What did he do…?" Alfred inquired.

"Since the hebephile seems to remember so well you may as well find out yourselves." The angel tore his gaze away from Antonio back towards the memory.

Ivan tilted his head, "Hebephile?"

"The term used to describe somebody who engages in sex with children going through puberty… Pedophiles are before puberty, typically before age nine; hebephiles during puberty, usually from age ten to age fourteen; and ebophiles are from age fifteen until age nineteen" Arthur explained quickly. The ground fell silent and mixed looks were painted on everyone's faces. They quickly turned back to watch the memory of the Spanish nation unfold. Alfred was silently wondering what Antonio could have possibly done to corrupt his brother, who was always such a cheerful person as a child.

"Antonio?" the younger Connor called out quietly, stepping in the Spaniard's rather large second home.

"In the living room, Connor," was a familiar voice. The young blond walked through the house until he reached the living room, where Antonio was sitting on the floor by a low table, reading some papers by the light of an oil lamp.

"You wanted to see me?"

Antonio patted the floor next to him and Connor reluctantly went to sit next to him. "I'm sure you're aware of the crisis impaling on us?"

"Yes sir, you mentioned it at supper." The young nation grew slightly alarmed when the older wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. The Spanish nation rested his head next to Connor's.

"An arising problem is that the population is growing and there's not enough land. Arthur and Francis are having problems taming the New World much further north. But I figured…you've learned enough mannerism from Pablo and I. Perhaps it is time you truly become a colony of Spain, si?" Antonio pressed the younger to the floor, roughly pinning the blond down.

Connor writhed under the older male, "N-no! P-please stop!" The younger panicked, realizing what was about to happen, "Por favor, alto!" The poor boy even began to beg mercy in Spanish.

"Shhh," Antonio placed a hand over Connor's mouth to keep the boy from alerting anyone. Tears were beading up in the younger's eyes as the Spanish representative quickly discarding clothing between the two. Wails of pain as lubricated fingers were shoved inside him. Tears flowed freely down the younger's face and sobs of agony escaped his throat, only to be muffled. The boy wept, screwing his eyes shut at when the older male withdrew his fingers only to slam back into the boy with no hesitation with something much bigger.

The memory flashed and a time skip ensued, stopping only momentarily to reveal that this occurred almost on a nightly basis for months on end until Connor's stubborn and self-supporting attitude was reduced to crumbs of practically nothing. Now, months later, the young blond was nothing more than a trembling mess who did as he was told with no resistance or hesitation. When the men and women of Spain asked Antonio how he had managed to tame a boy with such high resistance and unwillingness, the response was simply that Antonio had crushed his spirits and dashed all hope. Of course, the men and women of Europe were delighted, simply because they had no idea what went on at night behind closed doors.

Connor had walked into the former Aztec Empire with his head held high, stubborn, and prideful. Now the boy crept around in the shadows like a stray pup and had no pride, no hope, and no level of resistance. Pablo had noticed the significant change in his friend's now ill and undesirable nature but said nothing. One night, he waited until Connor had vanished into Antonio's house and pressed his ear to the wall of the home, listening intently.

Inside the house the conversation between the boy and nation started off casual, as they always would. "You've been so quiet about this, just as I asked. You're either incredibly stupid or care much too much about the few people you have."

"I will always cherish any form of life in my nation except for filthy people like you," Connor whispered harshly.

Antonio frowned, "Perhaps I have not made myself clear," a harsh blow in the boy's chest set him reeling to the floor, "You are Spain's colony now. You do what I say when I say it and you do not insult me or my people."

Connor wheezed from his spot on the floor, "You can take away my family, and you can violate me as many times as you want, and you can even make a vain attempt to break me, but you will_ never_ take away my willingness and strong desire to protect innocent lives."

Antonio spat and lunged forwards, knocking the wind out of Connor as he ripped the clothes from the boy, "Filth! You don't deserve!" Pants were shed and Antonio slammed into Connor dry. A harsh, blood curling screech rippled from Connor as Antonio set a cruel pace.

The front door suddenly flew open and Antonio was knocked ferociously away from Connor. The dark brown haired teenager stood protectively over a battered Connor, brown eyes glowing fiercely in hatred, piercing Antonio. Pablo sank to one knee to examine Connor, who was fading in and out of consciousness from the roughness. Keen eyes did not miss the fresh tear stains on the blond's cheeks, nor did he miss the blood on the floor pooling around Connor's lower body. Standing up with new found fury, Pablo faced the offender, "You've sure got a lot of nerve to rape a mere boy."

"You're a young nation, Pablo. You don't understand the concept of diplomacy yet." Antonio growled, fully clothed again.

"I know there are many forms of it! Connor was too young for this way! He's a cheerful soul and responds to positive attitudes and treatment. At least he did. You've scarred a nation for life, Antonio, and for that I refuse to forgive you." Pablo snarled. At that, the darker brown haired nation leaned over and carefully as he could, picked up Connor and started to walk out the front door.

"You come back here this instant!" Antonio snapped, following the teenager and now unconscious boy out to the streets.

"I refuse to accept your commands," Pablo hissed, continuing his quick pace. "And if you dare step foot in my house I will shoot you."

Antonio seized walking and watched the pair walk off into the night. Once in his own house, Pablo laid Connor on his bed then quickly went off to fetch materials within his house to tend to the boy. Upon returning, the teenager removed bloodied clothes and frowned deeply at the bruises and cuts on the young nation's body. A washcloth was dipped in a bowl of water as Pablo began to wash blood and old semen from the violated body. Connor stirred slightly as Pablo slid fresh clothes on Connor much later. The blond tried to speak but Pablo hushed him and gently instructed him to rest.

The memory flashed once more and began to show general recovery of the young Connor, and the progression of events that lead to Mexican independence. And although Connor had fully recovered physically, it was highly evident that the boy who walked into the village so long ago was lost forever. It made Pablo upset and angry at the same time. He missed his once cheerful friend who talked about anything and everything. How he loathed the new Connor, who said nothing unless directly addressed and he who masked all emotions. And at that, the memory paused and faded grey at a pre-teen Connor looking up at stars emotionlessly and a worried teenage Pablo, who watched Connor with concern and great sympathy.

* * *

**AN:/** ASDFJKL; Oh my gosh guys I'm soooo sorry I didn't update sooner! DX I was grounded for like a week and my laptop and flash drive were taken and I was a sad little derp. And then inspiration ran me over like a train and asdfjkl; I'm just so sorry ;_; Also – the pomegranate fruit was introduced to Spain's colonies in the 1700's. It wasn't the right time frame but blah. AND I AM SO, SO, _SO_ SORRY FOR MAKING ANTONIO LIKE THAT. I'M SO SORRY LIKE *dies*. I fully 100% support that Antonio is not a pedophile but…asdfjkl; IM SORRY. BUT I HAVE TO ADMIT IT IS ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE FROM HERE. Yep, I'ma lose some followers for this chapter. Oh well. But hey, now you and Alfred know why Connor is the way he is in terms of attitude...

So in case you couldn't follow along:  
Arthur is a unicorn/Pegasus thing || Francis is a gargoyle || Antonio is a griffon || Ivan is an ice wolf  
Eagle's Freedom is the pre-colonial/Native American Alfred || Falcon's Liberty is the pre-colonial/Native American Connor

...I bet the title makes so much more sense now, huh? So now I've got a question for you guys - should the next chapter be Alfred's memories of the American Revolution, American Civil War, and the Cold War? Or should there be a paragraph or so mentioning briefly what happened and move on? I can't start the next chapter without knowing~

I also highly recommend listening to the song I drew chapter inspiration from.  
_Behind Blue Eyes_ by Limp Bizkit  
The song would obviously be told from Connor's POV.

Love, Alex


	9. Chapter 9: I Was Here

_Chapter 9: I Was Here_

It was as the visions went on that everyone started disappearing. As Alfred's memory evolved to his next phase, those before it faded. As the memory of the American Revolution began, a certain Spanish nation faded until his presence was nothing more than a figment of one's imagination. And as the American Civil War progressed, the same happened to Arthur and Francis. And so on and so forth. Although it was immediately after the Cold War memory ended that Ivan faded from view and out of mind. Now Alfred sat in pitch blackness. He was utterly cold and shivering as he walked what he presumed was forwards; paws freezing to the point he couldn't tell if he was still walking.

He was sure he was walking. He was almost sure. He didn't know. Alfred's pace gradually decreased and the American wasn't sure he was even alive at this point. He felt cold all over and empty inside. Alfred lay down and changed back to his human form. _Maybe now I can die peacefully._ He thought, curling up and willing the light to come to him.

The light never came. Instead, Alfred woke up in a hospital bed. The nurse on duty gave him a gentle smile as he came back into consciousness. She made sure he was stable before going off to fetch the doctor. And after another week of closely being watched, Alfred was allowed to leave. In fact, it was more of a discharge than anything. The dirty blond had sighed, summoned a taxi, and went home. And upon returning home, Alfred was forced to use the ole key under the lock to get into his own house. He was expecting to find a dead cats lying around or something but found nothing, instead finding a note.

_Alfred –_

_It's been a few weeks since you entered your coma. I stopped by to find paperwork and such for the doctors at the hospital. I saw your cats nosing around for food so I brought them to my house until you wake up. _

_-Matthew_

So Matthew had been taking care of his pets; Alfred was relieved to know of this. As Alfred wandered around the thickly coated dust house, he noticed nothing was missing or broken. The Canadian had locked up the place well. The only thing that made Alfred a bit sad were his wilted plants. All the dust made Alfred violently sneeze. The American went upstairs to his room and quickly scouted out his passport, copies of important documents, and a stash of cash he had set aside in case of emergency (which only turned out to be about a hundred and seventy USD). Alfred muttered and decided to change his clothes, settling with jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers.

Alfred then shoved his stuff in a European shoulder bag he had received as a gift eons ago and bounded back downstairs, noticing that he had been cut off from power and water. Alfred sighed and went back outside, walking back towards downtown DC where he would catch a ride to the private airport nestled somewhere within his capital. Alfred sat down on the bench next to an old lady. She looked over at him with a sweet look, "Excuse me young man, could you tell me what country you're from?"

"Huh?" Alfred blinked, as if he hadn't quite caught what the elder said.

She held up a card that had names of every nation in the world on it, "I'm trying to meet somebody from every nation in the world." Alfred examined the card closer, noticing she had already put a sticker next to most of the names already.

"That's impressive," Alfred muttered, half to himself.

"I've been working on it ever since I was a little girl," the woman grinned.

Remembering her question, Alfred shook his head and smiled, "I'm from America…the United States of America." The woman gave him a funny look and started laughing. "What? What's so funny?"

"Oh you poor man… The United States hasn't existed since my great grandmother was alive!" The woman exclaimed.

Whoa, reality check, please. "W-what year is this?" Alfred stammered.

"I'm…not sure, dear. I can hardly remember my name these days. All I can tell you is that it's the late 27th century." She replied sheepishly.

"The twenty…twenty seventh…the twenty seventh century?!" Alfred wailed in disbelief. "What happened to the United States back in the 21st century?"

"Like I said, I don't remember much, dear. All I can recall is that there was another American Civil War and the United States lost to the reformed Confederacy. Though I must wonder…where has that Connor fellow been hiding out?" She paused, lost deep in thought for a moment, "Though if you want to learn more, I suggest you go to the Library of Congress, Alfred."

"Hey…how did you know my name?" Alfred panicked, scooting away from her slightly.

"When I was a young girl my mother told me a story passed down from her mother and her mother's mother. She spoke of nations disguised as people that walked among us. It was said these nations were never to be discovered by the general public, but that secret died long ago with the fall of your country, Mister America. You had fallen into a coma, I was told, and your people grew ill-tempered with no representative. A doctor that had been taking care of you at the time accidently gave you the wrong medicine just as you were showing signs of recovery and you fell into an even deeper, longer coma. The staff was furious and the doctor was fired instantly on the night of Christmas Eve. He sought vengeance and exposed the secret of the nations on global television.

"Of course, the people who held grudges against certain nations did not hesitate to take advantage of this new knowledge and began to brutally attack nations. I'm afraid your kind can't go anywhere alone anymore. International security is with them everywhere they go at any given time of the day. Unfortunately, some nations were actually dispersed in the chaos and many of the countries you once knew may be gone or living in anarchy. It's not safe anymore, dear soul." The elderly woman explained.

"That's awful…" Alfred stared at the concrete.

"If I were you, dear, I would consider a complete identity change and start over fresh. If people were to find out who you really are they will shun you for deserting them in their time of need or attack you out of spite and hatred."

Alfred gulped, "But…that still doesn't explain how you know who I am…"

The elder retrieved a thin book from her purse and held it out to Alfred. There was no title on the cover but Alfred shrugged it off and cracked the book open. He was expecting words, not an old news report. A report blurred into view on the page and Alfred turned the book sideways to watch more intently. The reporter on the screen began to talk:

"_Just yesterday a man has uncovered what keeps the world united, even when a nation's government isn't. We go to our reporter out in the field for more information."_

"_Thank you. I'm here live at one of the many labeled World Summit meeting halls here in Madrid, Spain. When we all thought deals and foreign relations rested fully on the shoulders of our nation's governments, a doctor uncovers something so shocking, that many are finding it hard to wrap their heads around. Every nation and micro nation on the face of the earth has a personification."_

Alfred watched as ID and passport pictures of his fellow nations flash on the news report along with their full name and respective country. That was it. Alfred closed the book and gave it back to the woman. Her face was a picture of sympathy as she took her book back and put it in her purse. "So…basically everyone in existence knows what were look like, who we are, and what we do?"

"Yes," she gave a simple reply.

"This sucks…the S.O.N. was supposed to be kept forever…" Alfred sighed and looked up at fluffy white clouds. "Hey didn't you say the world lives in anarchy or something?"

"Five particular nations aren't suffering in the slightest. That would be Russia, China, Canada, Mexico, and America." She stated.

"But didn't you also just say America doesn't exist anymore?"

"I said the _United States_ didn't exist anymore. The Confederacy rose up from its former ashes. Most of the states were unhappy with the rise and take over at first, and still existed as the United States. But as time progressed further, the union states realized they wouldn't last much longer and even the most stubborn states joined the Confederacy. You may or may not be glad to know that Connor is doing a marvelous job at keeping everyone together. Representatives from a few states even admitted that they felt happier and safer in terms of the economy and security. Connor has practically turned the economy around and America is hardly in debt to China. The relations between America and Canada have been stronger than ever and so have American relations to Mexico. It was a huge change over at first, I've been told, but it seems now the global economy is stable." The old woman prattled on.

"I need to go find my brothers." Alfred stood up, "Thanks for your help. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Connor lives in Richmond, Virginia, right?"

"He does, but none of the nations will be home. They'll all be in California for the tournament. It's actually nearing the end of the spectacle a few days from now."

"Tournament, what tournament," Alfred asked.

"Almost five centuries ago, with the exposal of the nations, media has its way of forcing people to do things. This tournament has replaced the Olympics and only nations participate. And it's such a sad, cruel fighting arena too. It's like a slaughter house…" She shivered unhappily. Alfred felt his hands forming fists as the woman continued, "Since the origin of this event, nations have trained with specific non-nuclear and non-gun weaponry. Nations can't die easily, but they still bleed. There are matches and in those matches, the first to pass out from blood loss or get knocked down and stays down for a full minute is out and the winner progresses. The semi-final rounds are going on now."

"What's the point?" Alfred hissed.

The woman frowned, "There is no point. It's merely for amusement. I find it to be a sick form of so called entertainment and a repulsive sense of entertainment too."

"Well what about my brothers? Are they involved in this too?"

"The five nations I mentioned earlier are called the Big 5. When they argue, you know something serious is about to go down. Back when the event was created, three other nations were there and were known as the Big 8. Your brothers and Pablo disagreed with such inhumane treatment, but the other five proposed and agreed with it. At first the Big 8 fought in these tournaments but when three nations fell, the remaining five formed a truce and now they merely watch. And although the three disapproving parties now outnumber the approving parties, nothing can be done about it. Any existing nation and micro nation is forced into it without a choice and the Five are forced to watch as well. The tournament has become quite popular and even the faint at heart watch it."

"This doesn't stop me on my mission though. I need to go find Matthew and Connor," Alfred growled.

"You won't be getting into that tournament without a ticket, Alfred," the elder told him. Alfred groaned in frustration but the woman held a paper out to him, "They sent it to me, but you'll get more use out of it than I ever will."

Alfred stepped over and took the ticket from her, shoving it in his pocket before stooping over and hugging her. "Thank you so much… You've just helped me so much you don't even know... It means a lot to me… I don't have a lot on me, and I know it isn't much, but please take this as a token of my appreciation." Alfred dug a keychain from his pocket and pressed it into the old woman's hand.

The woman held the object close to her face, breaking into a smile when she realized what it was. The keychain was a 3D bald eagle holding an American flag in its talons. "I've never gotten a gift before," she said, "My family was always poor." The elderly woman clutched the eagle close to herself, "I will cherish it forever."

"Can I ask of your name, please?" Alfred asked.

"Yes. My name is Denise. Denise Slater." She replied with the face of a child that had just been given the keys to a candy factory.

Some part of Alfred broke inside as he said his goodbyes to the kindly elder and went on his way. He managed to catch a bus to an airport and slipped past security and snuck onto a plane headed for the tournament. Unfortunately, the only place for him to sit unnoticed in the small biplane was the cargo store. And needless to say, it was the most uncomfortable plane ride of Alfred's life. Upon landing several hours later, Alfred leaped out of the cargo hold as soon as the doors were opened and fled the unloading zone before anyone had a chance to react.

Alfred blasted through the airport and quickly hailed a taxi, instructing the driver to go to wherever the tournament was being held. When the streets became so densely crowded the car couldn't pass, Alfred paid and got out quickly. Stands lined the street and swarms of people from different countries buzzed about. Almost immediately after entering the crowd, Alfred was snagged by the hood of his sweatshirt and dragged to the darkness behind the stands. "What the hell are you doing here?"

It took Alfred's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dimmer light but when they did, a woman a little younger than him (if he were to guess), although she was much shorter. Her auburn hair reminded him of a more reddish shade than Romano's hair. It was tied back in a loose ponytail and military dog tags were around her neck. She wore nothing more than a dark grey tank top and air force camouflage pants as well as black air force boots. Her forest green eyes seemed to be illuminated in the low light. Alfred also noticed several cuts and bruises on her well-muscled arms. "Just for, ah, arguments sake, who exactly are you?"

"I should have known," she huffed, "I really aren't important, am I?" She withdrew a hidden knife from her boot and held it under Alfred's chin, "Play time is over, Jones. You look me in the eyes and you tell me you don't remember me. Think back and think hard."

Alfred stared into deep green eyes when realization slammed into him like a freight train, "Cassie!" She smirked and withdrew the blade, stowing it back in its original spot before pulling Alfred to his feet. The American delivered a crushing hug, "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be? I'm _Delaware_ for the love of god! Small and out of the way but I can pack a god damn punch when my people are threatened. I'm the Canada of the States despite the crucial history; I'm just pushing your buttons." She laughed and punched his shoulder, making Alfred wince in pain.

He rotated his shoulder to make sure it wasn't popped out of its socket, "You never were a noticeable state, but damn, you and your people were ones to watch out for during the Civil War. Err…the first one."

"What are you doing here? You're practically gambling with death by even coming within a thousand miles radius of this place," the state questioned.

"Believe me, I've been dancing with the devil since I fell into a coma," Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Alfred, you're an ex-nation now. I hope you realize that. If anybody finds an ex-nation sneaking about then whoever finds you has the quote 'highest honor' of killing you."

"You're kidding, Cassidy…right? Like…legit kill me? In the way you legally kill nations?" Alfred stepped back warily.

"Yes, to legit kill a nation. Whether or not it's legal is an entirely different story, though. And you should have more trust in your first state, there's no way in hell I'm turning you in." The auburn replied. "There are penalties for such things but I haven't much to lose. Besides, if bitches come after me I can shoot them. And if that doesn't work I can high tail it out of here. Andrew will be smug but…I get called a Pennsylvanian enough already."

"Oh you kids never stop bickering…" Alfred sighed, face palming.

"Shut up! I'm practically as old as you are! We original thirteen colonies are more of your half siblings than we are your children. I can only name a handful of states that are actually your blood babies." The Delaware representative scoffed.

"I still like appearing as a proud daddy figure," Alfred pouted.

"Alright papa bear, time to get away from here." Cassidy huffed. She could deal with her 'father' but only for so long. The United States Air Force woman began to push Alfred away from all the buzz, only to run into somebody she'd been hoping not to.

"Privet, little sunflower," a certain Russian addressed the female, who snarled in response. "Nice to see you again, Alfred."

"Wish I could say the same," Alfred spat out of pure spite.

"So what happened to you after our little adventure around the spirit world? I and the others happened to wake up. It appeared that after your Civil War memory that your brother woke up and stirred panic in the American people. Who do you think stirred up all the trouble and caused another American Civil War, hm?" Ivan asked, circling the two.

"Alfred…he's lying. Connor didn't do anything, your people acted out of fear and old dwelling spite…" The state's eyes never lost contact with the Russian circling them like a predator.

"Says the one who remained neutral in both Civil Wars," Ivan scoffed.

The female gave a snort, "Please, I'd rather be involved than sit on the sidelines like a baby. It isn't my fault geography and borders have me marked up to be labeled a border state. The north of my home is industrial and the south of my home is agricultural-"

"And nobody cares. Yawn, let's move onto something people actually care about you little nobody." Ivan cut her off. The rather unrecognized state gave a snarl but said nothing more on the matter. "Now then," Ivan averted his attention to Alfred, "Time for you to go, da?" A rather dangerous looking gun was retrieved from his coat pocket and held up to Alfred's forehead. The gun was cocked and the sound of another gun clipping was heard as Cassidy withdrew her own pistol, holding it to Ivan's head. Seeming to have anticipated this, another gun was withdrawn and held the Delawarean's head. Alfred leaned over and swiped a second gun from Cassidy's utility belt and held it to Ivan's head.

The three of them stood motionless, poised to shoot. Ivan smirked and curled his fingers around both triggers. "Halt!" The voice of a security officer rang out. Instantly a swarm of security officers encircled the three. Ivan rather quickly let his weapons slip back into wherever they were hidden at first, the officers pouncing on Cassidy and knocking the gun from Alfred's hand. "Oh gentlemen, do let go of Delaware." A newcomer walked through the crowd of officers.

"You heard the man! Get the fuck off me!" Cassidy snapped and the officers backed away. She gave a final glare before walking over to the newcomer's side. Who wasn't really a newcomer at all, it was Connor.

Connor threw a cocky smirk at Ivan, "Excellent try, amigo. Though you'll have to be a bit quicker; you spend too much time stalking and not enough time attacking." His response was a snarl and a middle finger as Ivan stalked off. Alfred was crushed rather uncomfortably into the ground, his wrists bound by handcuffs on the ground in front of him. He stared up at Connor, not quite sure what to expect.

"What do you want us to do, sir?" An officer asked.

Connor waved his hand dismissively and the officers nodded and left the area until not one was left. A simple nod to Cassidy and she was at Alfred's side, helping or forcing him to his feet. "I'd let you go but it seems the public has seen, already."

"Damn the public," Cassidy spat and smashed a camera that had been secretly broadcasting the whole time.

"So uh…what now," Alfred asked.

"Now you get a one way ticket to death." Cassidy frowned and began to nudge Alfred back towards the street, Connor following after silently.

"Excuse me?!" Alfred wailed.

"The law of the land has changed," she sighed, giving Alfred a sympathetic glance.

"God give me strength for what I'm about to do…" Connor muttered under his breath.

"B-bro you aren't seriously going to _kill _me, are you?" Alfred asked in a pathetic tone. He gulped nervously when there was no response. The arena where the tournament was held though, was no different than a football stadium. Only there was no soft grass and chalked up lines, just the cold hard dirt and half the arena was concrete. Alfred had to blink his eyes several times to adjust to the harsh lighting of the arena. Connor walked off and stood on the side as security guards surrounded Alfred and shoved him into the arena.

Above the concrete area in the grand stand sat the other four members of the Five. Matthew seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole situation, Pablo was drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair, Yao had a bored expression on his face and was impatiently awaiting the next sparring match and Ivan was looking towards the west entrance with great interest. "I wish Connor would hurry back. The next match can't start without him and I just want this damn tournament to be over so I can go home," Pablo huffed.

"You won't be talking to him anytime soon," Ivan kept watching the entrance. The other three turned to look at him.

Pablo gave a snarl, "If you did something to-"

"Calm yourself you drug addict. I didn't do anything to your boyfriend." Ivan rolled his eyes. His cruel smile returned quickly, however, "I'd say we're about to get some true entertainment from our comrade." Pablo muffled a gasp of shock when Alfred was being forced before them and Matthew didn't even bother to hide his.

"That's it I'm done with these sick games." The Mexican snarled and leaped out of his chair and whipped around to leave the stands but was quickly blocked by security. He glared as Ivan as the Russian gave a simple 'tsk-tsk'.

Down on the arena floor, Alfred gave hisses of protest as he was rather roughly chained to the concrete flooring where he couldn't even move; save for an inch or two any direction. He looked up at the four in front of him; two looking rather sorrowful, one looking mildly interested, the last with a devious smirk. Alfred tried to turn around when there was an enormous roar of applause and cheers only to be restricted by the chains he was bound by. Soon enough though, his brother was standing in front of him with what Alfred presumed was his 'signature weaponry'. Alfred shivered slightly as he recognized the weapon – a Confederate Cavalry Sabre. Almost 40 inches long with a sharp edge that, if aimed properly, could neatly slice somebody's arm off. The weapon, Alfred remembered, could be used for slashing and stabbing. Some of own people during the 1861-65 Civil War were hacked off rather violently by skilled swordsmen wielding this weapon.

And judging by the crowd screaming in excitement, they'd seen Connor use this weapon before and they'd been satisfied with the result of the poor soul receiving the blow. The choice in weaponry made sense to Alfred though; Connor had had much time to perfect the arts of it if it had really been almost seven centuries – not to mention his time on the battlefield way back when. The younger stared up into deep navy eyes and Alfred swore he saw the fury of a thousand suns burning in their depths. Yet, as always, Connor wore a blank face and nothing betrayed his feelings. Alfred turned to look down at the ground and closed his eyes. He had never thought he'd go out like this.

"I can't watch," Matthew uttered from his seat in the stands, clasping his hands over his face.

"Come on Connor…you're better than this…" Pablo begged under his breath through clenched teeth.

The audience surged with excitement as the Confederate poised to strike. The sudden clashing sound of metal on metal was something nobody expected to be sounding across the arena. Alfred opened his eyes to see a chain that had been previously holding him was broken and lay mangled on the ground. Shocked gasps and surprised noises echoed among the people in the arena. "W-what happened?" Matthew asked, still not daring to peek. The stadium fell eerily silent as Connor took a key from his pocket and proceeded to unlock Alfred's metal binds.

Pablo was the first to make a noise. He exploded from his seat with a huge grin on his face, "Its rebellion time, fuckers!" The dark haired male cheered and snatched his own saber from its sheath, proceeding to barrel the security guards behind him over and dart down the stairs out to the arena. He tackled Connor over gleefully, "I knew you had some good in you."

"That's great but you might want to get off me." Connor grunted from under the other male.

"Why's that?" Pablo asked cheekily.

"One, I'm not your boyfriend. Two, the entire world is watching. And three, we're about to be killed by an angry Russian." Connor stated rather calmly.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense." Pablo shrugged and the two sprang out of the way as Ivan's dual Dao swords came smashing into the ground where they previously were. The force of the Russian's sword hitting the concrete sent sparks flying. A heated gaze turned to Alfred and the ex-nation realized he was weaponless. As Ivan stepped forward towards Alfred, he was nicked across the back of his leg by Pablo, who looked rather giddy at the turn of events.

"Bastards," Ivan growled and swung his blades around as he turned to face the other two, "You think your tag teaming will work on me? Just remember I've overseen all your training."

"Weelllll… I wouldn't say _all_ our training. I mean weapons training…eh maybe about half of it. Then of course there are those private sessions behind closed doors. Let me tell you something man; this guy has such a tough exterior but he's a kitten in the bedroom." As Pablo prattled on, Ivan and Connor just exchanged 'what the fuck?' looks back from Pablo to each other. Matthew and Yao, who had been quarreling up in the stands had also paused to listen.

By the time Pablo had finished bantering, he looked around. Matthew was leaning back in his seat with his legs crossed as he casually sharpened his many knives. Yao was carving something into the wooden railing with a small ninja star. To Pablo's left, Alfred, Connor, and Ivan had all sat down in the triangle. Alfred sighed, "Got any two's?"

"Go fish." Ivan replied.

"Guys…? Can we…finish this up?" Pablo asked.

"Hold on, I've almost beat them," Alfred waved his hand dismissively and Pablo just leaned on his sword with a bored expression now.

"Got any Jack's?" Ivan asked the Confederate.

"Yeah, but you don't need one." Connor replied. Ivan looked up from his playing hand, as did Connor. The Russian raised a brow in questioning. As quick as flash, Connor had pounced and successfully struck Ivan's upper left arm – which happened to be his dominant arm too. "You're already a jackass."

Ivan hissed but as the Confederate sprang up to leap away, Ivan caught his ankle, sending Connor flying back into the ground with a thud that sent dust into the air. Matthew had quite brutally knocked Yao over the railing of the stands and there was a terrible crunching sound when the Chinese nation smacked into the concrete ground. Matthew gave a snort before turning and dashing down the stairs and out the proper way to the arena. None of the fighting nations noticed when the crowd was cheering, urging on the fighting. All anybody wanted to see was blood and guts flying. Ivan had withdrawn a hand blade from his inside coat pocket and was stabbing at the young blond in a crazed frenzy. At a few rare points, Connor had managed to turn and slash his opponent.

That was soon put to a stop as Pablo cracked the Russian with a fatal blow to his lower spine. Ivan let out a strangled growl of pain and he went limp, collapsing onto his back but still alive. The front of his jacket, his face, and part of his hair were soaked in blood. Whether or not it was his own blood was an entirely different story, however. Matthew had bounded over and snatched Connor's blade from the ground, tossing it to Alfred as he trotted ahead to knocked out any guards in the way. Alfred gripped the handle of Connor's saber tightly and looked over at his brother, who was complaining quietly as Pablo lifted him onto his back.

"I can walk, dammit…" Connor grunted.

Pablo rolled his eyes with a smirk as he balanced Connor carefully before hastily walking after Matthew, "And pigs will fly."

Alfred jogged alongside his brother and Pablo, rather sloppily slashing at guards that came at them, though Matthew had already disabled most of them with quick knife to the knee or other important joint. Connor huffed, "Pablo…I'm almost eight hundred years old. You don't need to protect me."

"Oh hush. You act like you don't enjoy attention outside the arena." Pablo mock scolded the younger nation.

"I wonder how long it'll take for everyone to figure out you were just stalling back for time back there." Connor chuckled softly.

"Si, that will take a while I suppose," Pablo laughed. "But really who would believe that we're dating?"

"Heh, yeah…" There was an awkward silence between the two after that.

By the time the group was away from the crowds and the city, the moon was in the sky above them. Matthew was more at ease and started a conversation with Alfred. Pablo had shed his outer jacket and wrapped it around Connor. The group reached a clearing in the middle of a forest with a large puddle off to the side. Pablo set his northern neighbor down gently before peeling off a now blood lined jacket. Matthew withdrew a first aid kit from his bag and tossed it to Pablo. "Francis wasn't kidding when he said you were prepared for everything. Let me guess, you have lube in your handy dandy bag too?"

"Vanilla or strawberry?" Matthew rolled his eyes, "Just patch him up you hoser." Alfred just snickered at his younger brother.

Pablo laughed before turning back to the dirty blond and examining the wounds Ivan had inflicted. The brunette sighed before opening the kit and searching for the cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol. Alfred and Matthew decided to go off together to find some firewood. "So what happened in my absence?" Alfred inquired.

"More than I care to explain," Matthew uttered softly, "What about you? How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, honestly. Though I feel a bit...different, it must have something to do with being an ex-nation now." Alfred just gave a fake smile, trying to mask his worried feelings. Matthew gave him a disbelieving look and Alfred frowned. "Alright I lied. I feel so weak and cold and empty. I don't have any ridiculous or fancy ideas anymore like I used to. It's hard to feel peppy. I don't feel the energy of my people flowing through me like I used to."

"Now you know what Connor has been feeling like," Matthew stated.

"Huh?" Alfred blinked.

"Connor told me a few years after he'd returned what it felt like to be an ex-nation. That he felt so empty and lonely. He'd missed the spirit and the feelings of his people. I can only start to think about what that must feel like. So…I guess that's how it must feel to be normal…to be human." Matthew trailed off.

"I kind of feel bad for Gilbert now," Alfred exhaled, thinking about the albino nation who once represented the nation of Prussia.

A hint of sadness sneaked into Matthew's voice, "He put up a hell of a fight when Ivan found him though. Ex-nations get exterminated if found… I hated it. I've hated these stupid tournaments since they ever began. It's not the right way to regulate war and relations between nations."

"So that's what this is all about, huh?" Alfred stared at the ground as they walked.

"Connor had been planning for so long to start an uprising and strike back at any cost. He was waiting for the right time to do so. Tonight was the perfect window of opportunity. Pablo and I will stand by him during this rebellion, every step of the way." Matthew smiled, feeling renewed energy at the thought.

"Well…that's my brother for you; a rebel. Reminds me of the Hunger Games," Alfred laughed.

"Oh great now I've got thoughts of Connor being Katniss in my head and I can't get them out." Matthew face palmed and both brothers laughed at the very idea.

"So what's that make us three?" Alfred asked.

"Pablo gets to be Peeta, no questions about that. So if Connor gets to be Katniss…that makes you Prim." Matthew smirked.

"No way, I'm so not Prim!" Alfred nudged his brother playfully, "You get to be Prim, and I want to be Gale!"

Matthew, in a preppy love-struck girl voice spoke up," Awww how sweet," his voice returned to normal though heavily sarcastic now, "You have a secret relationship with your brother."

"Man that's gross cut it out." Alfred made a barf face.

"Then the world gets to have fangirl wars over your and your brother or your brother and the Mexican." Matthew laughed.

"You're a devious bastard, Matt," Alfred grumbled.

"I love the moment of realization. I really do." The Canadian replied gleefully.

The two brothers returned to their temporary camp to find Connor dozing peacefully on Pablo's chest and the brunette's arm wrapped around him, almost falling asleep himself. "Watch this," Matthew grinned devilishly before quietly setting his wood down and sneaking over to the two. "Boo~" He whispered, startling both of them. The pair sprang apart, acting as if they weren't just sharing a rare peaceful moment.

"I hate you Matt," Connor glowered and the youngest simply laughed.

It didn't take long for Alfred to scrape out a small pit in the ground and ignite a campfire. The four gathered around in silence until Alfred spoke up, "So can we even begin to tell me what happened?"

"After your constant memories, I returned and was not well received by the world. Of course, I instantly received all the blame for the trouble and havoc the kitsune had stirred up. A majority of the nation reacted in a negative way and I guess you could say I accidently stirred up another Civil War. Though I also have to admit, it may have been a huge tension release for most of the states. The government was forced to reevaluate and regulate itself to prevent everyone from falling apart. It seemed as though the people had forgotten they had the same power as the government. The division of states was mostly between Republican and Democratic states but eventually reformed. Unfortunately, some of my former southern states felt the need to rename the country to the Confederate States of America. The borders haven't changed and aside from government structure, nothing really has." Connor explained.

"He fails to mention that he dug America out of its 16 trillion dollar debt, broke all dependency on China and put the American people back to work. The economy is brimming and the people are happy again for the most part. They're glad most American businesses withdrew from foreign nations and are back in their country of origin." Matthew chuckled.

"And both failed to mention that in helping the country, America lost its global super power status." Pablo sighed.

"So who's the new global power?" Alfred inquired.

"Hard to tell which power is higher, there are two global powers. China was eager to take over and sprang ahead and first but found surprising rivalry with Canada." Pablo grinned.

"No way," Alfred turned to his younger brother, "You're a world power? That's awesome!"

"It's a lot of responsibility…" Matthew rubbed his head as if he had a headache.

"What about the kitsune and the alternates?" Alfred turned back to Connor.

"It's hard to tell where the kitsune went. They just sort of…vanished. The alternates, however, we decided in a World Summit to call them second players. When a country falls its second player comes out and takes charge instead. When Gilbert and other nations were killed, their second players came out to take charge of their respective countries," Connor explained.

"Where do these second players come from and how are they created in the first place?" Pablo asked, new to most of this.

"The second players come from a parallel universe. They're our opposites. All of us have one. They're our opposites. Some alternates look like us and sometimes they don't, but they will most of the time have a completely swapped personality. Yet no matter what, about 90% of them have a strong lusting for blood and death. They usually go by the same name as us or some variation of our names. For example – Alfred's second player goes by the name Al. Al is a brunette with ruby eyes and has darker skin. He's a cocky bastard who's almost always looking for somebody to fuck around with literally and figuratively. It also seems relations in the alternate universe are opposite too. I imagine that Al and Matthew's second player wouldn't get along well, and that Al and my own second player would get along fabulously." Connor explained.

"You've never met your own second player?" Alfred tilted his head to the side.

"Most nations never do because they could never get along; and the fact that we aren't looking for a blood bath. Alfred, your second player carries a baseball bat with nails driven into the end of it. Arthur's second player-" Connor was cut off by Alfred.

"Bakes poisonous cupcakes with guts and blood and lethal spices, I know."

"I hope I never run into Matthew's second player, honestly. He must be a real dangerous guy." Pablo shivered.

"He is," Matthew trembled, wrapping his arms around himself. The other three turned to give him questioning looks. "He's intimidating. Impatient, rough, but he can be rather sweet when he wants…in his own special way."

"Sure he is." Alfred rolled his eyes, "So where is your second player now?"

"I don't know," Matthew answer quietly.

"Second players are created when one visits the spirit world or the original person is vividly imagined by somebody in the spirit world. As far as I know, it only affects first and second generation spirit world goers. I'm first generation and everyone I thought of is second generation. Even if one of them thought you, Matt, you wouldn't have a second player. You don't, as far as I know." Alfred began to think back.

"Which is all 100% true; so I have a better question," Connor cast the youngest a suspicious glare, "How did you meet your second player and where did he come from?"

* * *

**AN:/** The much needed comic relief has arrived. But that's just Pablo being Pablo and me needing some relief from all the seriousness myself. Heh… Fluffy, slow chapter for the win. Introduction of a random old later who will show up at a later date, an OC of Delaware, and the reintroduction of Mexico(Pablo). Sorry I made Ivan psychotic .

I also may as well tell you all that I'm winging this whole thing. I get motivation and inspiration from all your wonderful reviews! I had to cackle evilly when I was driving people insane and was being told that I was inducing headaches. Felt guilty about some people losing sleep over it (this is nothing to lose sleep over though, fruit loops!). Had to laugh my ass off at some reviews and replies because they were just so damn funny. But yeah. I had an original plot down but threw it out after chapter 2. I'm a freelancer and I let the wind take me wherever it blows.

I couldn't resist throwing in that little Hunger Games snippit. I just couldn't. xD I don't go cuckoo like most people do over it, I just think it's really well written. And one of my friends who was reading it over my shoulder goes, "Are you writing an alternate version of the Hunger Games?" So that's where that came from :P I started crying from laughing so hard at the thought of boring, stiff, uptight Connor being Katniss. And none of you can hurt me for ConnorXPablo because that's OCXOC and it makes sense in many ways .

This chapter's inspirational drawn song:  
_I Was Here _by Beyoncé

Tell me what you think! Oh here's something else to think about - where did 2P!Mattie come from and how does Matthew know him if his second player isn't supposed to exist? Reviews are love and appreciated! Remember I get inspiration and motivation from reading what you have to say~

Love, Alex

P.S. My third attempt to upload this. My internet kept failing every time after I edited and tried to upload so I just uploaded it. This is my third attempt and actually being successful. Internet has been a bitch all day and so I apologize in advance for any mistakes in grammar or spelling. Please tell me if there is anything wrong though! TuT

P.S.S. EDIT: Removed the prologue and simply put it onto the beginning of chapter 1. It was throwing the numbering system off and I didn't like it. Chapter names now correspond with chapter number. Before it would be _2. Chapter 1 _now it's correct and _1. Chapter 1_ The rest of the story remains the same and has only been bumped down to the appropriate level. Again; nothing has been lost or temporarily removed: the original prologue has just been moved to the beginning of chapter 1 and the numbers have been reset properly. C:


	10. Chapter 10: Get Out Alive

AN:/ Uh hi. Long time no see but let's chat later!

**WARNING: Chapter contains multiple character deaths.**

* * *

_Chapter 10: Get Out Alive_

Long after the fire died down, Matthew had fallen asleep, leaving Alfred the alone one awake. Judging by the position of the moon in the sky, it was probably sometime after midnight. Sleep was not being kind to Alfred, but he figured it must have something to do with being asleep for so long. Connor's question must have struck a nerve somewhere deep in Matthew, because the Canadian had given a tart response and declared he was going to sleep immediately after. Connor had started to say something but was hushed gently by Pablo. The brunette had laid down on the opposite side of the fire to Matthew, Connor deciding to rest next to Pablo. The pair opposite Alfred and Matthew had fallen asleep and in their sleep, drifted towards each other until Connor was being held in Pablo's arms.

Alfred had smiled at his brother and neighbor. The two could deny it all they wanted but Alfred (and most likely anybody else who really knew them) could tell they were close and probably more than friends. Alfred was silently jealous his brother had somebody to love and cherish. He took note how Pablo was holding the slightly younger nation was both loving and protective. A sudden crunching of twigs and leaves made Alfred jolt upright, snatching up a pistol and aiming it towards the sound; he stood poised to dodge an incoming attack.

"Relax, it's just us," Francis emerged from the shadows. Arthur had an arm around Francis' neck, his other arm wrapped tightly around his stomach. Francis was supporting the wounded, limping nation but Alfred growled, still keeping the pistol aimed at them.

"How do I know that's really you and not some kitsunes? And how do I know you aren't going to turn me in to Ivan or Yao?" Alfred inquired.

"Because we were in the spirit world together; we witnessed your memories alongside you. We left Vlad in the clock tower in Arthur's home." Francis stated a bit feebly. Not only had these tournaments taken a toll on Francis, but age seemed to have taken its toll as well. Alfred seemed to have forgotten how old the two nations were as he lowered the gun and gave a nod, watching the pair hobble over.

"What happened to you guys after you woke up?" Alfred asked.

"Same old story you've been hearing from Ivan and Connor most likely." Francis sighed as he set Arthur down gently then sitting himself down. Alfred gave a questioning look and Francis filled him in quickly, "Arthur's opponent broke his leg after severely slashing at him. After Connor's little act of rebellion there, many of us who hate this tournament fought back and fled. But it seems the police and other nations are not the only ones after you."

"What do you mean?" Alfred blinked curiously.

"Arthur and I have seen those damned foxes running amuck. They must be hunting for you or some other poor soul." The chilled reply came, sending shivers down Alfred's spine. "And something else too. Something bigger and nightmarish sent straight from Hell. It reeks of decay and death, and has the appearance of a bony phantom covered in blood stained fur. But it's carnivorous; it dines on the flesh and blood of living creatures…"Alfred could practically _feel_ the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up on end, goose bumps covering his arms and legs at the mention of the beast. "It tracks too. Once it smells or tastes the blood of its prey, no matter how far you run, you can't hide from this thing," Francis concluded with a terrified expression.

The younger blond gulped and looked over at Connor, praying to every deity above that the creature had never had a taste of his brother's blood. Ivan's stabbing in the arena early had drained a good deal of blood from the dirty blond and Alfred noticed the deep red color soaking through the bandages and gauze already, though he had been tended to a mere few hours ago. Even in his sleep, Connor looked troubled by something, but Alfred wrote it off as pain.

"Alfred?" Arthur spoke up quietly.

Alfred tore his gaze from Connor to look at the Briton, "Yeah Artie?"

"Can you promise me something?" The bushy eye browed man asked.

"Sure dude, whatever you need." Alfred blinked. Arthur shifted so painfully it made Alfred flinch as the Briton withdrew something shiny and gleaming from a bag slung loosely around his shoulder. Alfred squinted in the darkness, struggling to see what object it was. Arthur slid it across the ground until it skid to a stop in front of Alfred. A familiar scent hit Alfred as he picked up the object, only recognizing it as a knife at first. Upon closer inspection Alfred shrieked and dropped it, scooting back terrified.

"Hush!" Arthur hissed as the sleeping nations stirred. Pablo jerked his head up, a hand not supporting Connor withdrew his signature weapon; most likely out of reflex. Matthew flinched awake, clutching his own weapon in his hand and swung his head around trying to find a source of danger. Alfred waved them both a signal that all was well. Matthew let himself lie back down and drift back quickly into sleep. Pablo glanced around warily once more before lowering his head and sheathing his sword again.

"What is the meaning of bringing this to me?" Alfred snarled through clenched teeth, glaring pointedly back and forth from Arthur to the knife.

"Do you even know what it is?" Arthur inquired, as if Alfred were clueless.

"Of course I know what it is!" Alfred spat, "It's the exact knife I used when I brought down the representative of the Confederate States of America! How could I ever forget that? And why is it coated with that same poison that burned the life out of my brother so long ago?"

"You'll need it if you ever come in contact with a second player. They die the same way as we nations here on earth," Francis stated softly.

"I want nothing more to do with that…that….that _thing_." Alfred gave a disgusted look, "It's just a painstaking memory now. A memory of so many things I failed to do right!"

"Alfred quiet down, you'll wake everyone up again…" Arthur tried to soothe the upset American.

Alfred lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, "I refuse to touch that thing again. I refuse to use it. I'll bring down these blasted second players if it's the last thing I do."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "You don't know what you're up against."

"Stop trying to scathe me, old man!" Alfred snarled, voice rising again.

"I'm stating simple facts," Arthur replied with edge in his tone. "And I'm telling you that you can't handle this on your own without prior advice and proper training-"

"I'll show you who isn't ready!" Alfred snapped and flicked the ancient knife into his belt loop, picking up the pistol from earlier and storming off into the forest.

"Alfred!" Francis called out, pulling himself and Arthur to their feet. Arthur let go of Francis and collapsed to the ground, wheezing. Francis made a vain attempt to pull his friend-enemy to his feet, but to no avail. Arthur shooed him off to go after Alfred. Giving Arthur a reluctant look, the French nation ran after the America, yelling for the other nation to come back. He soon caught up to Alfred, who had previously been slowly jogging. Yet as soon as Alfred noticed he was being followed, the blond took off like a deer being preyed on. "Wait! Mon ami! Come back!" Francis shouted, still chasing after Alfred.

His pleas fell on deaf ears as Alfred soon dashed out of sight and Francis could no longer even hear Alfred's dull footsteps. All he heard now were his own harsh puffs of air as he slouched over, leaning on a tree as he struggled to catch his breath. A good goal for the next year would be to work on getting back in shape, Francis had quickly decided. _And find a way to have decent sex with somebody for once…_ Francis added bitterly, mentally. The sound of footsteps behind him and Francis straightened himself up, thinking it was Alfred, "Don't scare me like that, Alfred. You almost gave Big Brother a heart attack…"

He felt an arm around his waist from behind and a sharp, cold object around his neck. Francis' breathing slacked as he grew tense and stiff. "Bonjour," a new voice, clearly not Alfred or anybody Francis could recall, spoke. A shadow emerged from the dense woods, illuminated by moonlight.

Deciding not to be rude, Francis let a soft spoken, "Bonjour," escape his lips.

"Looking for somebody?" A French accented voice asked, sounding eerily like Francis' own voice.

"Oui, a friend of mine ran off," Francis replied.

"A shame you won't have the chance to go find him," the newcomer stated, his movements flowed easily, seeming creepy with the added effects of moonlight.

"Excuse me?" Francis asked, and would've tilted his head if not held in place.

The other French speaker stepped closer to Francis, and the blond jolted backwards in shock, making whoever was holding him stumble a bit before rooting Francis in place. "Have we met before?" The mirror image of Francis gave a sneer, tracing his own knife over Francis' exposed upper chest.

"No I don't believe so," Francis glared, "I do believe introductions are in order, _monsieur._"

The doppelganger placed the knife in his pocket momentarily before removing his own scarf and moving it to blindfold Francis. "The name is Francis Bonnefoy," The second player jerked a knot in place to emphasis his next words, "_Second player_ Francis Bonnefoy. And don't forget it or you'll pay dearly." The second player proceeded to tie the scarf over his first player self's mouth, gagging the other. The pitter patter of paws skittering over the dead and decaying leaves of the forest echoed in the air. "Oh? It seems my little friends have found your camp," the second player purred as a series of yips and barks surrounded them.

Further off, Alfred had slowed and was looking around, for once sensing the tension in the air. He sighed and leaned against a tree, looking up at the canopy. An intense wind howled suddenly, ripping through the trees and making the branches tremble. Alfred shivered at the cold it brought with it. Another gale of wind swept through the dark forest, threatening to knock Alfred off his feet. A muffled scream from the distance had Alfred whirling around and racing with the wind back to the camp. A gasp of horror at what he saw. The camp was littered with kitsunes, their many tails flashing about as the moonlight hit their fur. At first, the American guessed it was a pack, but upon squinting, he noted that there had to have been more than just a pack.

At least half of a hundred swarmed about, giving a chorus of dog-like noises. And in the center of the chaos, Alfred noticed his brothers and Pablo struggling to defend themselves against the demonic foxes. But where was Arthur? Alfred was sure that Francis was still out in the forest, and that may or may not have been a bad thing. Francis was still getting around well but Arthur on the other hand… The poor Englishman must have gone down and it was Arthur's scream that Alfred had heard. Guilt swept over Alfred and he swayed, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. He felt like his mind had gone numb and his vision blurred, slowly forgetting his surroundings.

An abrupt cry of his name made Alfred snap back to reality just in time to dodge a kitsune. The silver creature skidded to a stop behind Alfred and whipped around, baring its fangs and snarling in a feral manner. Alfred growled right back at it, easing into a stance to strike the creature if it came at him again. The kitsune lunged forward, and Alfred thrust his arms out to shuck it away. The intelligent little fox must have foresaw this however, as it latched his jaws onto Alfred's arms and its fangs bore into Alfred's flesh. The American hissed in pain and reached to his pocket and withdrew the blade, violently stabbing at the kitsune's face. The creature gave a screech of agony as Alfred plunged the weapon into its neck. The fox's jaws went slack as it fell limp and dead to the forest floor.

A familiar scent wave of death and decay overcame Alfred. The powerful stench of blood and demise made the American dizzy and nauseous. He had encountered this odor before, and it wasn't very hard to recall who the owner of the foul smell was. Turning shakily, stomach heaving, Alfred turned to face the monster. It's black, rotted fangs showing as it gave a toothy grin. The charred grey, taut skin of his face pulled back into wrinkles. The creature stood as tall as Alfred remembered too, its phantom tail slithering about, suspended in the air. Rib bones shone through under shaggy, blood matted, black fur. The demonic creature's decaying moose antlers still jutting out of his head how Alfred remembered them; the thing's beady black eyes shining from within their deep sockets. "What a delightful pleasure to see you again, America!" The creature purred silkily, its voice not matching its appearance.

Alfred resisted the urge to gag as he spoke, "I wish I could say the same."

"Oh? Are you not happy to see me? Have I not wreaked enough havoc on your life already? Shall I go about and kill your friends and family in reality as well?" The monster asked, floating closer to Alfred, wrapping his phantom tail around the ex-nation and gripping Alfred's face with his poisonous claws.

"I just want to ask you a question, wendigo." Alfred stated; nausea taking over as the rotten thing wrapped itself around him.

"Ask away my darling victim," the wendigo gave a cruel smile and lowered its head down to Alfred's level, staring the blue eyed man directly in the face.

"Why are you doing this," was the simple question. The beast seemed startled, as if he had not been anticipating such a question. Alfred waited in silence as the creature stared at him thoughtfully. It was not much later when the demonic being began to chuckle darkly, then bursting into cruel, hysterical laughter, leaving Alfred confused.

"I suppose I've let my pets mangle your train of thoughts too much!" The wendigo laughed, slithering through the air away from Alfred.

"Tell me!" Alfred demanded, sucking in a more pleasant breath of air when the creature drifted away.

The wendigo went deathly silent at the command, glaring daggers at the American, "I suppose I could tell you… But I think it'd be much more fun if I let you find out yourself. Oh but between you and I," the monster hovered in close, whispering to Alfred, "I'd say your friends don't have much time."

Horrified, Alfred turned and looked over at his family and friend. His brothers and Pablo had slain the majority of the kitsune pack and Alfred quickly spotted Arthur's dead body lying face down in the sea of murdered kitsune. He took in the scene with a sharp inhale; Matthew was professionally and agilely killing any lithe little foxlike creature that dared challenge him, Connor was battling it out but Alfred could tell his injuries were slowing him down, and as for Pablo, the Mexican nation was in a frenzied mode of springing around like a rabbit, defending Connor and Matthew's blind spots. Giving a battle screech, Alfred flung himself without second thought into the pack of kitsune, swinging the blade clutched in his fist around.

Blood flew from every direction, landing on Alfred. The bites and scratches from the kitsune made it impossible to tell whose blood it was, however. A high pitched noise from somewhere made the kitsune freeze in the midst of their attack. And just as quickly as the appeared, they were gone. Alfred and the other nations glanced around, not quite understanding what just happened. The American gazed back to where he and the wendigo had previously been. The hideous creature had gone off somewhere as well, it seemed.

"That was…abrupt…" Matthew uttered softly, lowering the knives in his hands.

"Si…very….abrupt," Pablo agreed, lowering his weapon as well, "Connor?"

The blond had ignored his name in favor of making his way over to Arthur and kneeling beside the British nation. Pressing his index and middle finger to the pulse point on Arthur's neck, Connor let out a sigh. "Dead," His grim voice rang out in the silent clearing. Matthew sucked in his breath and Alfred hung his head ashamed. "He's a nation though, try to remember that… He'll come back around in a few days if we he gets medical attention and a stable place to stay."

Oh, that was right. Alfred had nearly forgotten the near immortality he and other nations possessed. They could die, but it was nearly impossible to do so, save for a few methods such as a specific poison or the nation itself dissolving. Of course, in the case of living, breathing ex-nations, there were some exceptions.

"Oh how your wishful thinking amuses me so," a smooth voice spoke out. Instantly the four nations tensed, raising their weapons to a striking pose.

A familiar figure emerged calmly from the forest. Alfred's eyes sparkled and he perked, lowering his defense, "Vlad!"

"That wasn't Vlad's voice," Pablo growled still looking around in anticipation.

The Romanian, however, didn't brighten when he heard Alfred's call. The dusky blond kept walking towards the group like his was in a sort of trance, his eyes a dangerous blood red instead of their usual ruby color. Fresh blood covered his dark blue uniform. Alfred trotted up to his friend cheerfully, "Fancy seeing you her-" Alfred was cut off as Vlad clutched him by his throat and slammed the American into the ground forcefully, choking Alfred. Alfred struggled and writhed about fearfully now; since when had the Romanian been so strong?

Inky blackness seemed to be crushing Alfred as he was being suffocated to death. His lungs burned with the need for air and his head spun, the edges of his vision going black. Suddenly the weight was gone and Alfred could breathe again. Alfred lay on his back panting and gasping for air, staring up at the sky. Matthew was at his side not a second later, frantically checking Alfred over. Alfred sat up wheezing, leaning on Matthew as the motion made his head spin faster. The shouts and sounds of fighting sounded miles away to Alfred, despite being a mere few feet from him. Matthew forced Alfred his feet, yelling instructions at his older brother. Alfred couldn't make out the fuzzy voice, but he knew it was Matthew. Even when his little brother was screaming in his face, Alfred thought he sounded so far away. He felt a strong pair of arms grab his wrists as Matthew heaved Alfred onto his back and began to stagger away from the fighting.

Matthew set Alfred down far enough away from the fighting but close enough to reach him if something happened. When the younger turned back around to engage in attack, he froze up. Vlad had knocked Connor and Pablo's weapons away and now had Pablo tight in his grip. The Mexican's back was pressed against Vlad's chest, the Romanian's arm locked around Pablo's waist, the other holding the brunette's head tilted to the side forcefully. "Vampire..!" Connor growled feebly from the ground.

"Do you like him? I changed him myself." The voice from earlier spoke; a few shadows on the ground swirled upwards until the ominous wendigo hovered proudly in the air.

"Y-you," Connor hissed and struggled to his feet, "Change Vlad back, _now_!"

"And why would I do something like that? He's a dead nation anyway. Why not make him an undead being? Isn't that how you nations always portrayed him anyway?" The wendigo challenged. Connor said nothing. "You see, he's much better this way. He seems to be quite content under my control too. Oh but don't worry about his wellbeing, Connor, he's properly taken care of."

"The same way you treated me?" Connor confronted.

"Oh heavens no, much better, actually; he's properly fed and everything. Speaking of being properly fed, he had a nice snack before coming here." The wendigo leered.

"No….you can't possibly mean…" Matthew gaped from his spot further off on the clearing.

"I believe so, my precious little Canadian. He had some help from Francis' second player, however," the demon replied, grinning his evil grin when Matthew sunk to his knees defeated. The creature however had noticed Connor move out of the corner of his eye and as the nation had lunged at him, the wendigo caught Connor's arm and thrust the blond behind him. Connor let out a surprised gasp of shock as he hit the ground behind the demon. The creature loomed over him as Connor flipped onto his back, "I wouldn't try anything daring like that again unless you want your sweetheart to suffer a painful death."

Connor let out a pathetic snarl, "It doesn't matter how many times you kill us nations! We'll just keep coming back; as long as our country lives on!"

"And that," the wendigo purred, "Is where you are wrong."

"Excuse me?" Connor blinked in a confused manner.

"You're aware of second players, yes? Well…the real world and their world have met and conjoined. As you know, second players and first players cannot coexist in the same world. Therefore, when one dies, the other prospers. Your Francis and Arthur, and several others of your world, have died. Their alternates reside and now live in their place. France and England will go on, though under a new representative. Those new second player representatives gain the immortality you nations have." He explained.

"And what if we don't have a second player?" Pablo spat, unafraid of the vampire ready to violently kill him.

"It's easy enough to _make_ a second player." The wendigo sneered, "We found a way around the problem of second players being created only in dreams. When the worlds somehow collided, it seemed that in taking the blood of a nation, a second player could be created if I consumed that blood. It gave me a certain power that allowed me to bring a doppelganger into existence. That's how some nations who have never been to the alternate world have second players."

"What about Vlad? What'd you do to him?" Alfred slurred out, still not fully gripping reality. What had Vlad done to him?

"Vladimir here," the wendigo turned to the speechless vampire, "It wasn't long after he sent you on your way to your memories in the spirit world of London. I was watching from the shadows the whole time. Couldn't you sense the odd air? I was considering attacking you all in your time travels and corrupting your memories further. But I realized that if you in fact made it out of your memories safely, I'd have a chance to alter the real world in everyone's absence. And Vlad was going to help me. He wasn't hard to bend into my will. You remember Mable, right? She's one of my underlings. After I'd connected with her over the spiritual network, she came quickly. Vlad couldn't put up much of a fight, seeing as he was only a pathetic little bat. It was easy enough to change him to a vampire. And because the worlds had crossed, and he was a creature of the undead now, he and I could cross into the real world."

"You're lying…" Connor hissed, refusing to believe it.

"Even after all these centuries, all these time loops, you still never change, Connor. Always in denial and always refusing to accept your fate," the wendigo sounded sympathetic for a brief moment, a very brief moment.

"Stop it!" Connor shrieked; bringing his hands over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. "Lies, you tell nothing but lies!"

Alfred gazed across the clearing in despair, wishing he could help his brother, who was clearly in much pain. The wendigo had leaned in and pressed its clawed hand to Connor's forehead. Connor grew rigid and let out another screech of agony. "Cut it out!" Pablo yelled and struggled in Vlad's arms, "What are you doing to him?!"

The wendigo pulled away, leaving the blond to cry out in pain and distress. It turned to face Pablo, wearing an evil smile, "He's rather paralyzed by his memories of all the time loops he's been through, which is every single on Alfred has gone through. He even gets a huge dosage of Alfred's sleeping memories. They're blood brothers and close enough in nation age to be considered twins. Haven't you ever heard that close siblings share thoughts? It's easy enough with them being so closely related to give one the other's memories and thoughts."

"No!" Pablo roared, fighting harder against Vlad. "I'm not going to let you get away with this! No matter how many time loops I have to go through! No matter how many deaths I die! I'll stop you, no matter how long it takes! Even if I lose my memory of that time loop, I'll live on in a different time and place and I'll never quit until you're gone!"

Alfred was taken aback by the Mexican's strong vow to bring down the beast. He'd only ever lines like that from movies. "I'm glad you feel that way," the beast's smile grew wider. A small nod to the vampire and suddenly, harshly, the Romanian vampire's fangs pierced Pablo's neck and the younger nation let out a cry of agony. "And you," the wendigo turned to glare down at a paralyzed by thought Connor, "Can join your boyfriend in life after death." The creature flung its poisonous claws deep into Connor's chest. Alfred flinched as he heard the loud crackling of bones and saw the blood shoot out like a fountain. He didn't even try to hold back his bile as the demonic creature began to rip organs and bones from his brother. Matthew had dropped his weapons and was slouched over with his hands clutched over his ears and tears running down his face.

Alfred sprang to his feet and began to run over to the creatures killing his cherished ones. He tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. Alfred felt bile rise again and he spat it out, turning to Vlad. Vlad was his only way out of this, if only he could reason with his old friend, "No! Let him go!" Alfred screamed in desperation. His pleas went unheard as the warped version of his friend sank his fangs into the older nation's neck. A screech of agony as the Mexican nation flailed about in a vain attempt to break free, but his thrashes meant nothing against the iron grip of his captor. Alfred ripped his gaze away as the sound of his brother begging for mercy echoed shrilly in his ears.

"Get off him!" Matthew snarled and rammed into the foul beast shredding Connor's life away. Matthew stood there over Connor's dying body with tears flowing freely down his face. Giving a yell, Matthew leaped towards the monster again. The Canadian's battle cry was cut short as the monster lashed its talons across his face, the blow knocking Matthew aside like a leaf.

"St-stop! Please, no! Stop!" Alfred cried out through tears. He rose to his knees, surroundings blurred by the tears he didn't try to hold back.

"What's the matter, Jones?" A voice purred and the stench of decay threatened to drown Alfred. "What _ever_ happened to the 'hero'? Mm let's reflect... Your former guardian Arthur is dead, your first ever ally Francis is dead, your brother Connor is dying of excessive blood loss, your brother in-law Pablo is also dying of blood loss, and I'm pretty sure your little sibling Matthew is blind now. What have you got to say?"

Alfred's sadness dissolved and he exploded into rage, "Take us back! I know you can play with time! You're the one who started this time paradox in the first place! Take us back!" Alfred screamed through tears at the ominous wendigo.

"Why should I? When a world of perpetual darkness is my desire, my dream, my goal?" It asked.

Alfred had nothing to say, a new wave of emotions surging through him. Alfred was blind and unfazed by anything that happened next. He gave no exclamation when the wendigo pounced on him and began to tear at him in the same manner it had done to Connor moments earlier. Alfred didn't scream. Didn't cry, didn't protest.

Vlad, seeming sated, unlatched his fangs from Pablo and let the nation fall ungraciously to the ground. The wendigo was joined by Vlad as the vampire wiped the blood from his chin, swiping his tongue over his lips. The two, satisfied with their work for the night, exchanged brief looks before going their own ways for now.

Alfred lulled his head to the side, gazing at his brother through hazy eyes. Pablo seemingly had enough strength and blood in him to begin to haul himself to Connor. He collapsed to the ground before he had the chance to get as close to Connor as he wanted, however. Through bleary eyes with tears threatening to spill over, Pablo reached out for Connor's hand, which lay limp away from the blond's body. Connor seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. The blond managed to close his hand over Pablo's, though he could summon no other strength to move anything else. Pablo squeezed his close friend's hand, feeling the pulse grow weak and shallow. "Te amo…" Pablo whispered quietly. He felt Connor's hand twitch ever so slightly in his own hand before it went limp and the blond nation went still and silent. "Te amo, Connor…" Pablo whispered again, a small smile on his face as he closed his eyes and a single tear rolled down his cheek as he too fell silent.

Alfred would have cried if he could. He felt Matthew touch his arm and whimper softly, groping around for something familiar. Alfred turned his head slowly to see Matthew and he raised his arm to send Matthew some kind of signal he was still alive. Matthew let out a little noise and felt around a bit before leaning over Alfred. The sight made Alfred weaker. He couldn't stand seeing his poor younger brother feeling around so blindly. Matthew was missing his glasses, though glass shards stuck in his face in some spots. His eyes were clamped shut, blood welling up and flowing down his face. "Matthew….listen to me…" Alfred said almost inaudibly, "Everything is going to be alright, okay? I'll make everything better in the end…" The edges of his vision grew darker as death threatened to overcome him.

"Alfred…" Matthew uttered. The American smiled up at him, even though he knew Matthew could not see it. At this point Alfred wasn't sure if he let his eyes close or if darkness had taken over his sight. If Matthew said anything more, Alfred hadn't heard it, though he was pretty sure Matthew had said something else. The crushing, suffocating feeling from earlier returned and Alfred let out a sigh. Matthew remained silent when Alfred didn't reply to his question. "Alfred?" Matthew asked when his brother's hand grew heavy. Matthew listened intently for his Alfred's heartbeat or his breaths. Nothing. Matthew let out a sob and he laid his head on Alfred's chest. "Al...Don't go… I need you…" If the blind Canadian could open his eyes and cry, he would cry harder than he ever had in his life. But alas, he could not. And he could not turn back time and reverse the damage that had been done.

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**AN:/** HI! Oh my god guys I'm SO sorry for not updating in like two months! First I was waiting for GBTiger to update her story but then she stopped writing it and then I was grounded for a week, then I had an finals and oh god I'm sorry it sounds like I'm making stuff up. I admit at one point I was really considering stopping this but I have this perfect ending in my head and I need to achieve it ARGH! And oh my god I'm sorry. I can't apologize to you guys enough OTL

One more chapter after this! Woo! At least that's what I plan. We'll see how far I get. But yeah, I want to wrap this up soon. Maybe a sequel because the ending I'm plotting will be extremely ambiguous but I also have this other idea floating around in my head. Oh well, let's see how I finish this first. The wendigo kind of reminds me of Discord from MLP:FiM? Is that just me? Wow I don't even know anymore. I made myself cry writing this chapter too, what.

This chapter's song: _Get Out Alive _by Three Days Grace

Reviews encourage me~! Until next chapter,  
Love, Alex


	11. Chapter 11: Anywhere But Here

**AN:/ IT APPEARS MANY OF YOU DID NOT RECIEVE THE NOTIFICATION FOR CHAPTER 10'S UPLOAD. PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU HAVE READ THE CORRECT VERSION OF CHAPTERS 9 AND 10.** This is likely to be because I had a prologue in the beginning and had 10 posted chapters when only 9 of them were actually chapters. I deleted the prologue but added it to the beginning of chapter one, therefore reducing the chapter count to 9. When I posted chapter 10, you may not have received a notification because of an error in that believes I already have 10 chapters when I had 9 at the time of upload. If that makes any sense.

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_Chapter 11: Anywhere But Here_

When Alfred cracked his eyes open, it was because he felt somebody gently shaking his shoulder. The harsh pure white that met him made him clamp his eyes shut again. "Alfred, wake up," somebody spoke. Alfred labeled it as Connor easily. Giving an upset groan, Alfred forced himself up into a sitting position, opening his eyes and adjusting to the brightness. The blond looked over at his brother and he jumped a bit, startled. Connor knelt there in the midst of the whiteness wearing a white toga and sandals, his wings a pitch black and a silvery halo floating over his head. The black wings made Alfred's stomach twist into pretzel knots.

"Oh good, he's up," Pablo walked over. He wore a similar outfit to Connor, though his delicate angel wings were a gentle dusty white. Alfred gave a small whine of protest when Connor pulled him to his feet. Upon standing, however, Alfred glanced down at his own silken toga. Curious, Alfred reached around to his back and gripped one of his wings in his hand and pulled it around to glance at the feathers. White; he let out a small sigh of relief. The American then took a moment to sweep his gaze around the area. Most of it was white but far off in the distance he noticed a swirling pitch black spot. When Alfred turned his head back to Connor and Pablo, Arthur and Francis had seemingly joined out of nowhere. They also had white wings, much to Alfred's confusion. Why only Connor?

"So what happens next?" Francis asked.

"Now you decide your own course of action." Pablo replied. "You see that black spot in the distance? That's something the wendigo created. It's a rift in time that allows us to go back. You can go back in time with me or move on to Paradise. Whatever you decide, I wish you all luck." And at that, the brunette turned and began to walk towards the rift in time.

"You're going back?" Arthur called after him.

"Yes," Pablo answered curtly, not stopping. Connor just gave a nod to the others still standing about and began to walk after Pablo.

"Why? He's just going to kill you again!" Alfred wailed in disbelief.

Both men stopped walking this time, turning to face Alfred. "I swore on my life that I would stop him, didn't I? And even if I go back in time and lose my memory I still have to keep that promise. There's no pun intended when I say that I really can't remember how many times I've gone through this rift. I don't know what I said or what was going through my head any of those times. It's a new time loop each time you go through. But each time I've died, it's made me wiser, even if I can't recall those memories. Those memories are there, somewhere in my head, but the human mind is incapable of summoning such deep, hidden memories. Yet there must be something, whether it's my personality or this nagging thought in my head, that always spurs me on to end this chaos."

Connor nodded in firm agreement, "If perhaps somehow, some way, in some other time and place, we manage to defeat the enemy, perhaps… Perhaps only then will order be restored. I do not care that it may very well be erased from my memory; I just don't want this kind of future for anybody. I would not wish this pain and suffering on anybody. This is mental torture and utter turmoil."

Alfred sighed and said nothing more, simply giving a nod and watching the pair walk off. He turned his gaze to Francis and Arthur, "What about you two?"

"I'm going back," Arthur stated.

"I'm not." Francis sighed, earning a sad look from Arthur. "I'm sorry… Every time loop I've been through I always die and never get anything accomplished…"

"Are you saying you can easily remember each distinct time loop?" Alfred stared at the Frenchman bug eyed.

"While you may think that's an advantage, it's slowly ripping me apart. I keep getting everything mangled up until I can't tell who the real nation is and who the time paradox nation is… It's dreadfully painful. I don't think I could stand another time loop. Something is telling me to stop and I trust my gut instinct. And somewhere in my head…I am being told that I've seen the end of the time paradox; which is all the more reason to stop. Why keep going when I've already seen the end?" Francis asked. He looked tired and weary, and it was quite obvious his words were true and the time paradox was driving him insane to no end.

"You've seen the end? How is that achieved? How much longer do we have to go on?" Arthur grabbed the blond by his shoulders.

"Please no… Arthur please don't make me remember… It's painful… I can hardly distinguish fact from fiction anymore…" Francis pleaded his sapphire eyes deep and mourning.

Arthur growled and shoved Francis back, "Fine! Don't tell us how it ends! You can rot among the stars for all I care!" The Englishman turned on his heel and sprinting off, and in that moment, Alfred could swear he saw a tear on Arthur's face as his friend ran off.

Francis was silent as he stood there shaking, watching Arthur run away. A forlorn smile made its way to Francis' facial features. Alfred gave the French nation a worried look, concerned the elder had finally snapped under pressure. A few tears welled up in Francis' eyes as he turned his back to Alfred, the smile still on his face, "He wouldn't have gone back if I'd told him the truth. The end of all this mess will be wonderful, Alfred. But you and Arthur and the others need to make it happen."

Alfred was stunned for a moment, "If you made it through the time paradox then why did you go back in time?"

"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't make sure everyone got through safely. I'm not a selfish man, Alfred. The wendigo is a master at mind games but if you can overcome that, I'm sure you could find a way to take him out physically," Francis stated before walking off into the distance, the opposite way of the dark rift.

"Francis!" Alfred called after him.

Francis just looked over his shoulder and gave a wave, "Good luck _Amérique_! I know you can do it!"

Alfred watched in silence as Francis turned and kept walking forwards, squinting and looking away when a harsh white light engulfed the old nation. Then Alfred was alone to decide what to do next. _So I'll lose my memories if I go back, no matter what… But I have to stop this demon! That is my choice!_ And at that, Alfred turned and sprinted towards the time rift with renewed determination.

* * *

A young man stands in the middle of an occupied hallway. The air brimming and sparking around him told him this is not an ordinary day. The floors, a black and white checkerboard pattern; the walls, empty black nothingness; a lonely red carpet with gold stitching made its way effortlessly through the impressive hallway, leading up to a throne. As if it were the most casual thing in the world, the man transformed himself into a werewolf. Standing on his now muscular haunches, the golden furred werewolf crept forwards, his long claws digging into the hard carpet. The man's clothing hung from him in shreds, seeming to only cover up the appropriate places clothing was made to cover. An intimidating presence spiked the room and the werewolf growled when something tickled his nose.

"I hope you've brought good news, dog," a smooth voice snapped out. The figure of a hideous creature rose from the shadows and drifted over to the throne. The details filled in and the master of the place sat angrily from his spot on the royal seat.

"What a way to greet after so long, wendigo," the werewolf snarled, "You would be nothing without my intelligence collections."

"Yes, yes, now hurry up with your report. I'm in a foul mood and I'd hate to kill you. You're one of my best stealth officers," the wendigo ordered in a cold voice. "Even if you do stink of earthly scents and often do not perform seriously."

The werewolf was unfazed by the insults, "Border patrol found an intruder trying to sneak in and cause a jail break."

"I'm aware," the hideous black beast interrupted, "That rotten English angel again, I know already."

"Sir, the intruder is not Arthur Kirkland this time," the werewolf spoke hoarsely.

The wendigo perked, "Go on."

"We know nothing of this stranger. Database is looking up his information now and he's being contained in the laboratory on level 3. He's not as dangerous as a goblin but he's got more fight and power than any angel I've ever seen. He must be desperate to save somebody within these walls," he replied.

"I see…" The wendigo got up from his throne and began to float past the werewolf down the regal red carpet, "And what did you say he looked like again? And his accent if you could tell."

The werewolf thought back a bit before answering, "From what I could hear, he sounded Spanish, South American, even the potential for Mexican. A nice tan for an angel but none too dark and his hair is a mop of dark brown to black after our tussle. His brown eyes are the brightest, fiercest thing you'll ever see from one of His precious little messengers. Otherwise he's a typical angel."

The mouth and lips of the demonic being curled back into a cruel smile as he continued his way to the laboratory. "Could you do some good and bring me my pet? The poor thing refuses to obey me even after all the torture I've thrown at him."

"I don't understand you, sir. If he's such a bad angel, then why do you insist on keeping him as your pet?" The werewolf inquired.

"Connor has got certain….qualities about him that I very much admire. And although he stubbornly disobeys me more often than not, he knows better than to leave. After all," the wendigo purred, "If he were to try and go back to Paradise, his sickly black feathered wings would give him away as my property. You should be able to find him in the library or the garden; he's always in either of those two places in his free time." The wendigo turned and extended his shadowy arm out to the wolf-like creature, a steel collar and chains in his bony hand, "My pet won't come quietly."

"Whatever you say, sir," the werewolf shook his head but took the steel collar and chains into his forepaw.

"And one more thing," the beast called after the werewolf. The werewolf, who had started walking the opposite direction, turned and looked questioningly at the house master. "Be quick about it, Alfred." Alfred gave a nod before jogging off.

Not much later, down in the lab, Alfred met up with the wendigo still in his werewolf form, clutching the end of the steel leash in both forepaws, dragging an irritated angel behind him. The angel was clearly distraught about having a steel collar around his neck and being dragged around like a reluctant dog. His white toga was ripped, glasses barely holding themselves together, black feathered wings spread out in annoyance. His dark blond hair was messy from the obvious struggle, navy blue eyes burning with sheer hatred for both the werewolf and the wendigo. "Why have you brought me here? I've done nothing wrong and I refuse to undergo any tests!" The angel spat, tugging harshly at his heavy collar.

"Link his restraint to the wall," the wendigo pointed to a latch on the stone wall, ignoring the angel's shouts. The black winged angel spewed profanities in English and Spanish, flailing around uselessly as the werewolf dragged him over to the wall and locked the end of the chain leash to the wall. "It's nothing you've done pet, just something a friend of yours has."

"I have no friends in this place," the angel snarled, sitting against the wall and curling his wings around himself.

"Perhaps you don't have friends in this place, Connor, but a very close friend of yours has dared intrude my home," the wendigo drifted over to a cage in the darkest corner of the room. Connor's icy gaze didn't follow, and the angel instead glared at the floor. "Do you remember when you said you'd do anything to see your lover again?" The wendigo asked and received no reply from Connor. A cruel sneer, though the angel did not see it, "Well, you're about to get your chance."

At the last sentence, Connor turned his now confused gaze to the wendigo in the corner of the room. Another set of chains rattling the wendigo dragging out a reluctant prison filled the room as Connor and Alfred looked on in silence. A sudden quick movement from the wendigo sent the prisoner sailing through the air and landing on his front side on the freezing concrete floor. At first, the whited winged angel sprawled out on the floor didn't move but he stirred and got onto his hands and knees, glancing over at Connor. The black winged angel stared for a while before calling out tentatively, "Pablo..?"

The one who had been smashed into the floor lifted his head a little higher, "Con-" He was started to speak the other's name in realization but was cut off by the wendigo forcefully hitting him in between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling back onto the floor again.

"You said you wanted to see your lover again! So now you get a front row ticket to his death," the wendigo dug his poisonous claws into Pablo's upper back and violently jerked his hands down the Mexican angel's back, ripping open the toga and layers of flesh. The angel let out a blood curled screech and Connor's own cry was drowned out.

"Stop it!" Connor screeched again as his master continued to rip open his partner. His pleas went unheard as the wendigo turned its attention to shredding white feathers. Alfred stood by Connor, taking in the scene unfolding in front of him without a word, his face expressionless. Seconds later after the angel had been de-feathered down to the wing bones, the wendigo began digging poisonous claws into Pablo's back where the wings connected. The wendigo tore shamelessly and effortlessly at the flesh and bone until the Mexican's back was nothing more than deep, bloody gashes. Neither Connor nor Alfred could watch as the household master snatched a bloody bone from the floor and began to rape the broken creature with what once used to be a part of him.

Connor was sobbing now and the words tumbling out of his mouth made no sense. He clasped his hands over his ears and folded his wings tightly around him, his eyes squeezed shut. The blond went into a physiological state of shock, numb and unaware of his surroundings. His mind plunged itself into a state of withdrawal and Connor became blissfully immune to the horror unfolding not even ten feet away. It didn't last long however, as he was snapped back to reality by the words, "I'll leave him to die."

"No!" Connor sprang back from the safety of his mind, also springing forwards as far as his restraint would allow him towards Pablo, who lay in a pool of blood and barely breathing. "I beg you master, please spare him! I'll do anything you ask of me if you please just let him live!"

"How pitiful and yet oddly cute," the wendigo wiped blood from his face. His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, "And you said you'll do _anything _I want?" Connor nodded vigorously and the wendigo sighed, "Just this once… Alfred, fetch the purple vial from the third cabinet on the left instantly."

The werewolf moved slowly at first but at a sharp hiss he sped up and brought the vial over to the wendigo. Something about this scene was making his head spin for some reason. A spontaneous wave of nausea overcame Alfred and he staggered over to lean on the wall, hoping his new found sharp headache would go away, as well as the sick feeling in his stomach. "I don't feel good," he uttered painfully.

"Why don't you go spend some time in your room?" The wendigo suggested absentmindedly, now focused on applying the liquid in the vial to the right places on the injured angel.

"Y-yeah…" Alfred agreed, "Maybe I'm just tired but everything just seems so familiar…this whole scene…" The werewolf turned to look down at the blacked winged angel watching depressed and the now broken angel at the mercy of a death master.

It only took a matter of weeks before Alfred noticed the Mexican angel starting to get around more. Ugly black wings were growing in place of where his previous ones had been ripped out violently. Today, though, Alfred was walking about the mansion as his human self. A small dark pixie fluttered by on its way to the garden. How Alfred despised those critters… Curious by the pixie's frantic flying, he followed it out to the garden, staying out of sight.

Black roses were perked up happily, having been freshly watered. The pixie joined its friends on a branch and their tiny chatters filled the air along with the burbling of the creatures in the pond. Alfred peered around a thick hedge over where a patch of soft grass was. The blond noticed Connor tending to fresh wounds on his partner. Pablo winced as the younger angel brushed a washcloth over a gash in his upper arm. A wave of guilt washed over Alfred as the pair tended to each other in turn. He sighed softly, half in relief, as the duo lay next to each other. Alfred watched a while longer – long enough to see the usually uptight blond angel wrap his wings around the both of them in a protective manner.

Why feel so guilty, when he hardly knew either of them? It was making Alfred feel sick again. Not the tenderness in the air, but rather the stabbing in his heart that made him feel that he somehow knew the two angels. He had to know the answer. Turning and bolting back into the mansion, Alfred exploded into his werewolf form, dropping to four paws and galloping towards the dining hall. He reared back to stand on his hind legs and thrust the doors open, nearly blowing them off their hinges. The occupants of the dining hall were startled, most dropping whatever they had in their clutches. At the head of the table, back to Alfred, was the wendigo. The black creature seemed unfazed by the sudden interruption, as if it had been anticipating it. Swiftly the demonic thing whipped up to float in front of the golden furred werewolf, towering over him.

Alfred just snorted in the thing's ugly face and stood tall, unafraid. In a firm, commanding voice, "I demand you help me figure out how I know the two angels you've made your slaves."

"Foolish creature!" The wendigo snapped, "You do not order me around! But if you really must know!" The beast swung its arm down on Alfred's head, gripping the werewolf's skull between its claws, refusing to let go even when Alfred whimpered like a pup and struggled to writhe away. A howl of agony rippled through the hall as memories of other lives and time loops flooded Alfred's brain all at once.

It was only after the wendigo finished sharing that it let go of Alfred and the werewolf collapsed to the floor, paws clutched over his head as more whimpers and howls of pain tore themselves from him. Eventually the golden wolf fell nearly still, a twitch now and then before no movement at all. "Such a shame he had to go out like that," the wendigo sighed, "He was useful while he lasted."

* * *

"W-what…Gilbert you can't be serious…" a blond who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years of age turned to face an older albino. Rain poured down around them, mixing several fallen soldiers' blood with the mud. Navy blue eyes danced nervously from the barely breathing soldier on the ground to his mentor; the personification of Prussia, Gilbert. The duo stood soaked from rain, blood, and their sweat in a vast field in Gettysburg.

The albino sighed, "Has all of this fighting and all of our training been for nothing? No mercy to defeated enemies! Strike them even when they're down to make sure they don't mess with you again! Look," Gilbert knelt down by the badly wounded Union soldier (after kicking him to get him to turn over), who happened to be Alfred, the personification of the United States. "Concealed knife coated in the poison that kills our kind! Connor, it was his obvious intent to end you. _Permanently._"

The Confederate States personification still seemed rather internally conflicted, "But he's still my brother."

"He's also your enemy and if he'd won this fight you wouldn't be alive this very moment." Gilbert tossed the knife to Connor, who caught it rather clumsily but without hurting himself. "_Jetzt töte ihn_."

"What?! There's no way I could kill him! I made a promise to myself when I was a kid that no matter how badly he treated me I would never go as far as to kill him." Connor protested, flicking the knife aside into the mud.

"Does our training mean nothing to you? _Keine Gnade! Keine Schwäche_!" Gilbert shouted.

"Do promises mean nothing to you? _Siempre fiel. Siempre protectora_." Connor responded.

"As a nation you'll make and break many promises, I can guarantee that. Do what you want, but my soldiers and I are sticking around until this war is over." Gilbert snarled and began to stalk off.

Connor looked over his shoulder as his Prussian ally, "No. I want you and your troops out of here by the end of the month." Gilbert said nothing and kept walking. The Confederate sighed and knelt down next to his brother, "Hey Al… You're going to be fine now. I'm going to take you back to Richmond until you recover…"

"If I weren't so weakened by your damned soldiers infiltrating my side of the border," Alfred wheezed as Connor began to hoist Alfred onto his back, "I'd run away for now in a tactical retreat and get you later."

"But you're clearly in no position to do so. Now shut up and don't struggle," the older blond ordered.

"Hah! I don't take orders from an enemy-" A cough cut Alfred off. He grunted when he started slipping off Connor's back he gripped the other's shoulders. "I hate you…"

"I care about you too, Al," Connor gave a light chuckle. And after arriving in Richmond nearly a week later, Alfred was slowly nursed back to health despite his strong refusal and many attempts to escape, often wailing he'd been captured and was being held hostage. The teenager refused to eat, bathe, or even sleep for several days after arriving in the Confederate capitol. But after finally realizing Connor was serious about helping him recover, Alfred began to slowly eat and take care of himself better. And over the next few months, battles began to cease and things between the United and Confederate States began to calm down. Grudges were still held between many groups of soldiers and people were still killed out of spite and vengeance. Gilbert had recalled the vast majority of his soldiers and sailed back home, though many stayed behind in hopes of a new life.

It took several decades of rebuilding a stable brotherly relationship again, but eventually, after much political debate, the United States and several other sovereign nations recognized the Confederate States as its own nation. By the time World War I rolled around, Connor and Alfred proved useful against their opponents though the people who resided in the Confederate and United States still found difficulty getting along. By the World War II era, rumors floated around the World Summit meetings of the two brother's countries merging. Although neither wanted it to happen, neither did their governments. One day several weeks after the Second World War had ended, Connor was returning home from work in Richmond to find Alfred beaten and stabbed to death and an anonymous note scrawled in the younger's blood along with a rather familiar knife.

* * *

"His attacks are getting more and more brutal… We've fought him off twice but I don't think we could handle a third attack." A young blond sighed, puttering around the kitchen in a cabin in Texas. He felt around the counter, squinting at a white blog on the counter, "That's my coffee cup, right?"

"Yes," a younger blond answered, sky blue eyes glittering in amusement but concern. The older reached for his cup, misjudging the distance of it and knocking it over. He cursed, irritated with himself. "You actually do need your glasses to see, huh Connor?"

"As a matter of fact, Alfred, I do need my glasses. How come you can still see crystal clear?" Connor grumbled.

"I wear them more for show and appearance," Alfred shrugged.

Connor rolled his eyes, "Texas is nothing more than a piece of land to you…"

"I never said that! I just said my glasses were for show! Texas is a very valuable asset! Besides, we can't let Pablo march around and let him do what he wants. Texas belongs us and if we don't defend it properly then he'll think he can just take what he wants from us without consequence." Alfred snapped, springing out of his chair.

"Don't get Nantucket in a tangle, geez. It just feels weird to me to be fighting somebody who cared for me as a child…"

"You practically still are a child," Alfred pointed out.

"Shut up, I'm still older than you! 15 in human years!"

"Oh big deal. I'm 14 in human years and you're 15. Wow huge difference." The younger replied in a snarky tone.

Connor sighed, "Let's not get in a skirmish now… We need to save our energy in case Pablo launches a surprise attack…"

"How old is he in human years anyway?" Alfred flopped back into his chair as Connor went to try and locate a washcloth.

"16. 17. I don't really know. He's freakishly tall though. You're pretty dang tall too…" Connor muttered.

"No you're just freakishly short." Alfred teased, laughing.

"I am not short!" He protested, almost whining.

"Yeah you are," Alfred went and stood next to him, "I'm at least 5 inches taller than you!"

"It's a nation thing and you know it…" Connor pouted childishly.

"Awww you're going to be one of those cute little European sized nations," Alfred cooed tauntingly, "How adorable!"

"I'm not cute or adorable!" Connor shoved him away roughly, "I'm going to be a strong nation and you better remember that."

"Whatever you say bro," Alfred casually shrugged before turning to leave, "I'm going to go feed the horses. And by the way, you hit like a girl."

"I do not!" The older yelled as Alfred ran out of the house laughing victoriously. The cheery atmosphere was short lived though, as angry shouts of almost a hundred men pieced the pre-dawn sky.

Alfred turned and sprinted back into the house and grabbed Connor's shoulder, "Their army has re-gathered!" He hissed, "Even after 12 to 13 day he's still not giving up!"

"That sounds just like him," Connor half sighed and half growled as he abandoned the spilled coffee and went to go fetch his sword.

"Are you sure you should be handling that when you're half blind?" Alfred asked, retrieving his own weapon.

"I'm not blind. I can detect when a canon is fired and a ball is headed for me any day; glasses or no glasses. Canons are sluggish," Connor snarled and stalked out the front door, Alfred hot on his heels.

"Canons may be sluggish but they can rip you apart if they hit," the younger reminded in a cautioning voice.

"Tell me something I don't already know."

"You're reckless."

"I want this battle to over with."

"Oh it will be soon, trust me," a newcomer joined the conversation.

"Pablo," Connor and Alfred stopped in their tracks, the air crackling with tension.

"Children shouldn't be running around with such sharp objects," the older nation smirked.

"You're hardly any older than us!" Alfred refuted.

A thoughtful expression crossed the dark brown haired male's face, "Hmm I suppose that's about right coming from a young teenager like you, Alfred. Connor, on the other hand, is well on his way to adulthood."

"Are we going to stand here all day and squabble about ages or are we going to get this over with?" Connor growled in an icy tone.

Pablo sighed, "You've changed so much since I last saw you after my independence. Ah well, I'm sure that will work to my advantage. Much has been gained since then." The brunette withdrew his sword in a single swift swipe and the two American brothers shifted into a fighting stance. "Today's the day I force you pesky Americans out of my territory."

"We'll make you eat those words, Mexican filth. Today's the day that we take back what's rightfully ours!" Alfred shot back.

"A two on one battle hardly seems fair but I can handle both you amateur _colonies_," Pablo jeered, trying to provoke either brother. He knew the two shared a close bond since the American Revolution and if one attacked the other would follow, and if one was attacked, the other defended. He'd rather handle a pair of attackers than an offensive brother and a defensive brother. The two blonds never did have a good battle strategy and it was by pure chance they had achieved independence from Britain. Pablo's method worked and Alfred let out a battle screech.

"I am nobody's colony!" Alfred shouted angrily and burst forwards, swinging his weapon poorly. Pablo deflected the blow easily and was about to flick the sword from Alfred's hand but just barely dodged a rather well aimed blow from Connor. Perhaps he'd been wrong in taking on two attackers at once; the older brother was obviously more skilled with a sword than Alfred was. Although, Pablo had to admit, Alfred was one to be feared when he had a gun of any sort in hand.

The Mexican personification was forced into a defense at the onslaught of perfectly timed and synchronized attacks of the brothers. Perhaps he'd misjudged their ability to cooperate too. The wobble of a flimsy sword didn't escape amber eyes like a hawk however, and at the first available moment, Pablo swung his sword across Alfred's and the three watched the tempered metal split into two halves. Alfred gaped at the failed weapon before realized the now extreme danger he was in. "I'll be right back!" Alfred called out and bolted away, Mexican and Texan soldiers now caught up in the heat of battle.

Connor barely had time to think as Pablo nearly slit his throat with skillful blows and a carefully crafted weapon. The sounds of metal clashing with metal filled the air and somewhere in the background, shots from canons were being fired and screams of hundreds of men rang out. The sword fight between Connor and Pablo went on for longer still until the first streaks of dawn began to paint the sky. Connor managed to somehow successfully twist the sword from Pablo's hand and now held the tip of his own to Pablo's throat. This did hardly anything to slow Pablo down as he ducked aside and kicked Connor in the ribs, sending the younger falling backwards with the wind knocked clean out of him. The sword flew from Connor's hand and landed too far away to make a frantic scramble.

"Let's end this battle peacefully," Pablo stated calmly as he withdrew a simple carved knife from one of his pockets. Connor withdrew his own handcrafted blade and sprung back to his feet. And it wasn't long until both knives ended up the same as the swords, discarded on the ground. Both nation personifications stood panting heavily, though it was clear the Mexican troops were winning the battle raging around them. Alfred still had not returned and it was worrying. Connor glanced around for his missing brother and turned back to face Pablo only to find the Mexican was standing too close for comfort. A devious plan was unfolding in Pablo's mind.

The Mexican had picked up quite a bit from Antonio and knew many tricks in the book when it came to the art of romance, whether it was being alluring or just flat out seductive. And he learned how to put those things to good use on the battlefield when facing a fellow nation. Pablo had dealt with a few other nations in a flirtatious manner then came right back around and delivered a fierce blow that usually won the battle. Though growing up Connor, Pablo knew the teen presented a new challenge. The blond was hardly affected by any flirt or pass from any nation. One would write it off as obliviousness but the careful word choice made the approaching man or woman know that he could care less. Pablo had observed in a few meetings how Connor put off even the most aroused person with his ice cold attitude towards the subject. He'd have to play his cards carefully if he wanted to win this battle. Perhaps a bashful, submissive approach…?

Whatever Pablo's mind processed, he acted on it. Amber and navy blue eyes locked fiercely and Pablo noted the pride and determination burning in blue depths, but also saw the fear and confusion. Connor's face betrayed nothing more. Pablo closed the gap slowly but smoothly, wrapping his arms around the younger. Connor tensed at the hug but did nothing to reject it. When Pablo began to run a hand through soft dirty blond hair, Connor began to relax, slowly forgetting his surroundings and becoming lost in memories of way back then, when they'd spend time like this together on a peaceful evening before Pablo's independence. Lost in his thoughts and his head now resting on Pablo's shoulder, Connor never noticed when Pablo's free arm began to wrap around his waist.

"Connor!" Alfred's hoarse shout brought Connor back. He quickly realized his position and began to struggle to break free of Pablo's grasp. The stronger nation managed to hold Connor in his grasp for the most part and Alfred held a gun in hand, feebly raising it, "Let go of my brother!"

"Or what, Alfred?" Pablo asked simply, smiling a bit in triumph when he realized the youngest had no answer. Connor still had his back to Alfred. Pablo whispered softly into the older brother's ear, "Why not come back and live with me again? I'll make sure you don't starve and are given proper shelter."

Connor tensed when he realized Pablo could tell what was going on between him and Alfred. After independence, Alfred had been expanding territory westward and often left Connor in the city while he went off to explore for months at a time. The snobbish city folk hardly paid Connor any mind and some even called him a street rat because he was always in the stone streets of the city looking for work or a meal. Alfred stayed with a rich black man and the man's daughter in the city of Philadelphia. The man had been more than happy to let Connor stay but the daughter was very displeased with Connor and accused him of beating her up and raping her. The man, conflicted about whom to believe, decided to just kick Connor out of the house. Since then Connor usually slept in a barn in the straw pile and in winter a horse blanket was his protection against the icy winds if he was lucky. He often starved and Alfred could barely do anything about it. How had Pablo been able to detect that? Had the Mexican been able to tell how skinny Connor was even under his several layers of clothing? Or was there somebody spying on him back home?

Pablo pulled back a bit and the hand in Connor's hair came down to rest on the younger's chest, the other arm still around Connor's waist. Amber eyes were soft and inviting, the offer tantalizing. An emotion Pablo could not detect replaced everything else in Connor's eyes as they darkened. The brunette touched their foreheads together as he waited for an answer. "You could be happy again," Pablo prompted softly, "We could spend time together like we used to and be best friends again. Our nations could finally get along and it would only take this act of friendship." _We could be more than best friends too, even if I may have to slightly force union and cooperation between our countries through you._ Pablo added mentally.

The answer he got came as a complete shock. Pablo's expression and eyes must have given away his thoughts as Connor ripped away and shrieked, "You're no better than Antonio!"

Those five words stunned Pablo and he seemed paralyzed as the words hit him like a ball fired from a canon at close range. The personification of Mexico hardly felt the metal ball fired from Alfred's gun sink into his upper arm. The stinging sensation of it made him feel numb all over. Pablo could only watch, frozen in place, as Connor swiped his weapons off the ground and charged into battle. With a final glare, Alfred too vanished into the mob of soldiers, leaving Pablo to remember just how sensitive Connor was. And although the battle had been won that day, the Mexican representative felt an empty void somewhere deep inside him, threatening to overcome him.

* * *

**AN:/** I apologize in advance for the delay. I really have no excuse this time. I finished this at 2 in the morning and I have school in a few hours. I felt bad it was just sitting in my folder so I finished 7 pages in one go. Please excuse any spelling or grammar errors... If anybody would like to improve my German or Spanish, please feel free to do so. ^^;

_Jetzt töte ihn_ – Now kill him

_Keine Gnade! Keine Schwäche!_ – No mercy! No weakness!

_Siempre fiel. Siempre protectora_. – Always loyal. Always protective.

Basically the order after Alfred went back is  
-A random time in which Alfred faithfully serves the wendigo  
-A 'What If the Confederacy Won the Civil War?' scenario (inspired by a conversation with user bobness)  
-My take on the Battle of the Alamo (to make up for those of you who wanted to see my views on the American Revolution and the Cold War written out fully not just a paragraph)

Um…don't hit me for the whole age thing. Himaruya stated that Alfred is about 19 in human years (in World War II) and if that's canon then he was actually pretty young during the American Revolution. Or as my friend likes to say, "Alfred is a little boy in a man's body". Oh speaking of which! The Alamo scene was a roleplay with my close friend we did last year. Haha derp. So I lied. One more chapter after this and then I'm done! I swear! I really want to start a new fanfic… OTL

This chapter's song:  
_Anywhere But Here_ | Sick Puppies

Also, if you ever want to talk with Connor, he has his own ask blog! Feel free to annoy the hell out of him! Just take the parenthesis and spaces out! ( : / ask-neko-confederacy . tumblr )

Love, Alex


	12. Chapter 12: I'm Moving On

**AN:/ WARNING_:_** Chapter contains character death!

* * *

_Chapter__ 12: I'm Moving On_

"Hey… Hey please wake up…" a soft voice spoke, followed by a gentle nudging at Alfred's side. The blond groaned but only shifted slightly.

"Get up you twit!" An angry sounding voice hissed and a fist met Alfred's head.

The America sat up scowling and clutching where he'd been hit, "What was that for Arthur?"

"You slept through the whole bloody meeting!" Arthur snarled, collecting up his papers.

"So it was all just a terrible, terrible dream…" Alfred sighed a sigh of relief as he too stood up and gathered together his askew papers.

"What was all just a dream?" Arthur asked, tone softening.

"Oh no, it wasn't just a dream," an eerie voice purred. Alfred could practically _feel_ the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he turned to timidly glance at the corner. And true to his suspicions, the wendigo was there, hovering in its usual creepy manner.

"What are you doing here?" Alfred whispered to the creature.

"Alfred who are you talking to?" Matthew asked softly, coming up to stand beside his brother.

Alfred pointed at the wendigo, "Don't you see that hideous beast there in the corner?!"

Arthur and Matthew looked to the corner, where there was merely a plant in a pot on the floor and a painting of a snake on the wall. Why there was a painting of a snake on the wall, nobody really knew, but that was the least of their concerns right now. "Alfred there's a painting and a plant in that corner," Arthur looked back at the now trembling man.

"No, no, no! Don't you see it?!" Alfred's expression and body language went slightly crazed as he rambled on about descriptions of the creature. Arthur stared like Alfred had grown a second head and Matthew looked genuinely worried for his brother.

"Should we be getting him away from here now?" Arthur suggested, noticing Matthew giving the corner a weary glance. Though all Matthew saw was a plant and picture, there was something…off about that one spot. But that could be Alfred playing on his mind. Still… "Matthew?" Arthur called again, sounding miles away despite being a few feet away from Arthur. Wait a second… Did that snake in the picture just…_move_?

No, Matthew blinked his eyes and shook his head. Wait, did it? He squinted from his spot in the room at the painting. The Canadian could have sworn that the snake just flicked its tongue a few seconds ago. He was about to write the situation at hand off as Alfred affecting him but then he really _did_ see the snake move. And it wasn't just a tongue flicking out or the eyes blinking. The frame and the picture quivered and almost suddenly, the enormous black snake in the picture burst towards Matthew. He screeched as the thing coiled around him, squeezing every last bit of air out of him. He was sure he was going to suffocate when suddenly he could breathe again.

Matthew sucked in a wonderful breath of air only to cough and nearly gag from a rotten, decaying smell. Talons curled around his neck and ghosted up and around his face, forcing him to look up into beady black eyes and a shit eating grin. "Hello," the thing breathed its nasty breath in his face. Not wanting to be rude, no matter how much the thing reeked or how dangerous the situation was, Matthew gave a small noise of acknowledgement. "Do you like my handiwork, Matthew?" The thing asked, its claws leaving his face and a bony hand swept across Matthew's vision.

The Canadian blinked upon realizing he wasn't in the meeting room anymore, but rather a foggy swamp-like place. Matthew blinked his eyes to adjust from such a close range to gazing out across the scenery. Arthur was wading through the thick water, slipping and falling into it a few times. He eventually reached where he was heading; over to Francis who was curled up on the bank of the water covered in his own blood. Matthew averted his gaze only to see a severely injured Ivan holding Yao to his chest and stroking the Asian's hair as if he were dying. The sound of something heavy being dragged through the mud made the Canadian shift his line of sight.

"Oh," Matthew gasped almost silently as he noticed Connor trekking unhappily through the muck and grime. He was startled by the sickly black wings with feathers that stuck together in clots of blood. The older blond wore steel cuffs around both wrists attached by chains to impressive blocks of lead. Something painful and heavy hung around his neck and just by watching, Matthew could tell it was made to choke if resistance arose. It was a wonder Connor could still get away in his poor condition. Matthew turned to face the demon, "Alright, wendigo, where's my brother Alfred and what have you done with him?" The look in his eyes was fierce and demanding and a tone of sudden authority came from the Canadian.

"Ah yes, the slightly pudgy one with an unbreakable spirit…" The wendigo sighed, as if exhausted, "Do come to my manor, it is a much more pleasant place to discuss such things." The swamp around the duo began to spin at a rapid pace until Matthew had to clamp his eyes shut to avoid getting a migraine. When he opened them again there was a black and white checkered tile floor under his feet. Those he had seen in swamp were present again now, though they had been tidied up. Not a drop of blood clung to anybody but the many wounds were still present. Shifting his gaze back to Connor, he noticed the ex-nation had lost his restraints although what Matthew best decided was a collar still hung around his neck. Matthew swept his gaze across the vast space at everyone and despite their differences they all looked the same.

The same hopeless look in their eyes, the same aura of surrender and defeat; they were all rather skinny. Even Ivan, who was usually so stocky, had a few ribs beginning to show. Arthur was the worst of them by far; the Englishman was jumpy and defensive, he held his tongue if he had anything sharp to say, his skin was as pale as a sheet of paper and probably as thin as paper too. His normally glistening, attentive emerald eyes were dull and sunken in now. There was still an air of pride and stubbornness about him, however. Matthew glared up at the wendigo, "Why are you doing this?"

"While I love killing others for fun and simply to eat, I have found it is much more fun to torture prey. It is quite an enjoyable experience to watch these immortal ones limp around trying to find a way out and end their misery. Though that is rather, shall we say, impossible? Come for a walk with me, Canada." The creature waved a bony hand for Matthew to follow.

He trailed after the wendigo, quite reluctantly at that. After the other nations were out of sight the wendigo spoke again, "Those and the other nations of your world that are here can't die. Simply because of that fact; they are immortal. You must be thinking that their countries would collapse under their personification's poor conditions but, ah, that is why my creations thrive."

"So you really are responsible for the second players…" Matthew frowned.

"You expected anything less? And their species is not 'second players', they are 'alternate nations'. They take your kind's places so the country lives on while the original copy suffers for my amusement."

"But…why? I understand death is your thing but…why the nations? And I guess an even bigger question is why I'm not like my friends…" The Canadian stopped walking.

The wendigo paused and floated back over to him when he heard no footsteps. "You are Canada. Your country is where my kind first came into existence. Although I am a creature of the darkness with no soul and a cold heart, I still have a heart and I could never bring myself to harm the one who brought me into existence." The creature drifted away from Matthew with a cruel grin, "So it's your fault everyone is dying, eh, Canada?"

Matthew stood frozen in horror and guilt now. If the evil thing said anything else to him he didn't hear. He felt numb all over at the realization it was true. It was all his fault. "Now run along and wake up. You'll awaken into my world and live alongside my alternate nation species." Matthew turned without hesitation and ran away blindly, wordlessly.

Once Matthew had gone a short call echoed through the manor. In the main hall, the nations perked and after a blinding light, they suddenly weren't nations anymore; but rather kitsunes. The lot of them came trotting over to the wendigo in a fit of yips and barks. They quieted down and slunk to their bellies at the sight of their master towering over them. "You've all done well, tonight, my darlings. Matthew was the last hope their world had to save them. But with him believing it was best to go live with the copies there is nobody to save the American now. Guilt will blind him for the rest of his life, which covers up all other evidence, for he is the kind who will remain silent. Tonight we shall feast in your honor, kitsune!" A chorus of excited barks and howls erupted from the group of kitsune as they ran off to the dining hall.

The soft fluttering of flapping wings echoed through the hall and the master of the manor failed to miss it. It whipped its head around and swung an arm out to catch to attacker. The wendigo hissed when it realized it missed, the enemy having thrust itself upwards just before being ripped open and filled with poison. It grew eerily silent in the hall and the beating of wings was no longer heard. The wendigo was alert for anything that would give his enemy away now. It glanced at the floor and noticed a small white feather on a black tile. The wendigo picked it up and gave a deep inhale, closing tiny eyes as it tried to trace what scent it was. All that could really be gathered was the fact the intruder was a male angel; a healthy one at that, one that could easily pick a fight with somebody younger in the manor and win. A high pitched wail from the main hall snapped the wendigo back and sent it hurling itself into the main hall.

Bodies of the kitsune he had just declared a feast in their names lay there, even the pack's leader lay dead in a pool of crimson. "Ah, Francis Bonnefoy, how nice of you to join us," the wendigo purred upon seeing the angel. The Frenchman only gave a cold glare in response, carefully watching the hideous thing. "I was expecting somebody else, honestly."

"And who could that possibly be?" Francis replied curtly.

The wendigo didn't move from his spot, "How about the real Connor? My kitsune are getting tired of the charade and now I have even less pawns since you killed all these precious critters."

"Forget it. You may be able to assault the earth where many live but even you shall never reach the gates of Paradise. Connor stays there forevermore alongside his mother. Should you look up at any point within the next week and see good omens for me, such as doves and the bright cloudless sky, then you should know your end is near. The one you seek to kill before you finally lie in peace will not come." Francis informed the beast.

It looked thoughtful for a moment, "Alright, messenger boy, you flap your scrawny wings and travel back to your Paradise and ask him something for me, would you?" Francis narrowed his eyes but gave a nod. "Excellent! Do go and ask Connor if he would be so kind as to meet me in Gettysburg on the night of the full moon? Yes, that is plenty of time and I'm positive he remembers the place well enough. And make sure you tell him everything he cares about is at stake." Francis snarled but spread his wings and flew off quickly, rather eager to get away from this place.

Several weeks later the wendigo waited patiently in the tall grass under the light of the full moon in the mortal world he was destroying. A soft breeze made the grass look like a gently rolling sea. The sky was cloudless and moon shone brightly overhead. The wendigo had to admit to being slightly worried, as it had in fact seen many of the ill omens Francis had spoken of. Just as the wendigo was about to give up and go home, the air several hundred feet away shifted and there was a slight disturbance in the breeze. A soft white glow faded in from near transparency until it took the shape of an angel, then the glow fading to reveal an angel.

Dirty blond, neatly combed hair with an obnoxious cowlick, slightly oval glasses and navy blue eyes that shone in the moonlight told the wendigo this was the one, the right one. The angel wore leather sandals and a snowy white toga that came down his knees, only fastened over the angel's left shoulder. Pure white wings were folded neatly and pressed slightly against the angel's back. His face betrayed nothing, as cold and emotionless as a statue, though an aura of underlying tenderness and gentleness could be felt coming from the angel.

A warm yet wicked smile spread across the wendigo's horrid face, "Just the one I've been looking for; Connor, my fine friend how do you do?" The angel didn't reply, only continuing to stare down the vile creature, his wings slightly ruffled. "Just as I remember… too silent for your own good."

"Do what you will but leave my brothers alone," he stated sharply.

"And tell me why I should do that," the wendigo smirked, "Matthew has gone into guilt and spiraling depression and your poor American brother…ah Alfred is such a joy to play with. He-"

"Cut the shit and get to the point. I don' care how many times you've tasted his blood," Connor interrupted. He sniffed a bit, "Probably tastes of ridiculous amounts of sugar and too much salt anyway."

The wendigo lost its menacing glower and scowled unhappily, "How unfortunate you can watch my actions and not be confused by the time paradox…" It straightened itself out, "No matter. I'm not exactly too fond of his fatty blood. I'm more so after you."

"I've done nothin' to you. Be gone with your hideous pelt and bones and leave everyone in peace." The blond angel half snarled.

"You think I'd ever listen to some little brat with pretty white wings?" The wendigo snapped and drifted towards the angel, who stood his ground. The creature coiled loosely around the angel and stroked soft feathery wings with bone claws. A single feather was plucked and Connor flinched a bit. The wendigo slithered a ways off, its back to Connor, "Angels are such gorgeous, majestic creatures… How I wish I could have been one."

"Something as foul as you could never live happily."

"Perhaps not in this life under this condition but maybe if I were human again. You see, ever since your people attacked Fort Sumter I have always hated you. In my past life, before I became this ugly monster, I was a Union soldier. I loved my country and would have done anything to protect it. After joining the militia I heard higher ups talking. They spoke of men and women who represented whole countries. At first I did not believe such nonsense; after all, it seemed quite outlandish for people to live for century after century and hardly age in a human sense." The wendigo explained.

Connor narrowed his eyes, "People talk. Back then it was okay for people to know of us nation's existences. People didn't write as much back then as they do now. By letting out the identities of the nations has endangered all of them."

The wendigo rolled his eyes, "You never cared about any of them; except for your brothers and a few African nations that you kidnapped for slavery. So why change now?"

"Alfred can be an airhead at times and yes he is responsible for my death, but it doesn't change the fact I love him the way brothers do. Matthew can fend for himself but he needs to feel wanted." Connor put in firmly. "I admit to guilt of slavery but I am not guilty of kidnap."

"You say you care for your brothers," the creature ignored the last part of Connor's reply, "But would you die for them?" A black mist appeared on both sides of the evil being and when it settled, an utterly defeated Alfred appeared on the wendigo's right side and a timid Matthew on its left side. "Matthew here is the reason I have lived on after you killed me in the Battle of Antietam."

"Death is a part of war," Connor stated, not letting his feelings become known through his voice, though eyes shone with concern for his younger brothers, "And it isn't avoidable in the heat of battle. You have no further quarrel with me."

"You tried to corrupt the United States and I can't forgive that," the creature spat.

"Civil wars are a part of countries and their histories. The cause is different each time but only one side can be the victor. Now I ask politely one last time, turn back time and reverse the damage that has been done."

"I refuse," the wendigo hissed without second thought, "If I don't kill you now, without a doubt I will kill your brother and he'll spend the rest of his existence as my servant." The beast motioned to Alfred, who sat on his knees looking hopeless.

"You can't kill him….he is already dead…" Alfred mumbled softly.

The other three looked at him and the monster was the one to reply, "You are mistaken, Jones. People die and they may go to Paradise, but even then they can still be killed. Their spirit is what goes to Paradise and if you kill their spirit then they are erased from the stars permanently."

"What business do you have with him anyway?" Matthew asked quietly.

"He ripped away everything I knew when I was human! My family was killed and my barn was burned. My parents were old and died of a heart attack when those blasted Confederates barged into our town. I watched my wife die at the hands of traitors and sinners and my son of 8 months was killed when they crushed his skull! Call me a former patriotic countryman but now there is nothing but spite and hatred. I am simply using Alfred to get to his brother," the thing roared in anger and rage.

"You're fighting over something that happened centuries ago. Let it go," Connor frowned, his wings slowly unfolding.

The wendigo regained his calm demeanor. Still glaring at Connor, he asked Alfred, "Is this your real brother?"

Alfred stared up at the hideous beast then turned his gaze to the angel. He looked at Alfred with a calm, soft look. "I…I don't know," Alfred answered. The wendigo nudged him forward a bit. Alfred took hesitant steps towards the angel, not really sure what to believe anymore. Had his entire life been a lie? After what seemed like hours, he was standing face to face with the angel, standing a few inches taller however. Alfred slumped his shoulders and bent his neck down to rest his head on the angel's shoulder.

Connor reached up with one hand to run a hand through Alfred's hair, which shone silver in the moonlight. "I'm not going to ask you to believe that I'm the real deal. You've been through a lot… But I want you to know that even if you see me as an illusion of this wendigo, I will still die for you Alfred."

The reaction was almost instant after the last words were spoken. Connor was pulled into a crushing hug by Alfred and he felt tears drop onto his shoulder. "I'm…sorry…" Alfred whimpered, hugging his long lost and nearly forgotten brother. Something deep in the American's gut told him that this man, this angel, was his real brother.

The Southerner's voice dropped to a whisper so low only Alfred could hear, "Don't talk. There is an enemy to be defeated. There is time to catch up later, I promise. Now dry your eyes, you big baby."

Alfred let go with a sad laugh and took off his glasses, wiping his eyes dry with his jacket sleeve. Inhaling deeply he turned to face the wendigo, struggling to regain his voice and not sound shaky, "Th-this is my brother... And I won't let you take him from me!"

"Very well, if that's what you choose to believe then so be it." The wendigo somehow snapped his bony fingers and several figures arose from the tall grass. Connor spread his wings and Alfred tensed up at the realization of ambush. Matthew stood frozen in shock at the wendigo's side. What happened next was in slow motion; the wendigo gave a wicked smile before raising its right arm and turning, swinging the arm down and plunging it into Matthew's chest. A blood curling screech rippled over the former battlefield as the wendigo sharply drew his arm back and hurled a slimy object across the field at the two Americans.

Alfred would have puked if he had anything in his stomach to gag up and the angel stared at the still beating heart utterly stunned and incapable of action. The sound of the Canadian hitting the ground brought both brothers back; Alfred charging forward recklessly with an earsplitting battle cry, Connor following suit headed right for the wendigo. The angel was knocked from his flight path by the mighty swing of a nailed baseball bat.

"Well hello, pretty boy," the attacker purred, pressing a knee onto Connor's chest while the angel was sprawled on the ground breathless from the blow.

"Get off!" Connor bellowed, his fist colliding with the brunette's face. The alternate version of Alfred fell backwards then sprang back to his feet, pausing to spit out a tooth. "You're outnumbered, softie!"

"May be, but you're outmatched!" Connor shot back before thrusting forward and plowing into the brunette, swiping the baseball bat from a loose hand and bringing it down with brute force into the taller male's skull. The alternate writhed in spitting fury and Connor stood up, "I'll let fate decide if you die or not. You aren't worth any more of my time."

Alfred had been charging at the wendigo, punching away anybody who dared get between him as his younger brother. The wendigo stooped over where Matthew was, beginning to do something dastardly. Alfred sprang into the air, ready to bowl over the giant creature but was intercepted by three other alternate nations, whom could easily be Ludwig, Ivan, and Francis' copies. The trio pinned him to the ground on his back, one holding Alfred's head, another securing his arms firmly and the last keeping his legs from flailing around. A familiar pink haired man with pale blue shining eyes stood over him.

"Hullo, Alfred!" Oliver chirped, "It certainly has been a long time, hasn't it~?"

"Oh hurry up," the alternate Francis snarled, "We've got a troublesome angel to deal with too."

Oliver frowned, "We don't get along like we used to, Francis…"

The French copy sniffed, unaffected, "Lutz would you make him hurry up?"

The German nodded at him and turned to Oliver, "Do as he says."

Oliver gave a sad look but his creepy smile returned as he looked down at Alfred, "You never did try my cupcakes, did you? Or maybe you did, I just can't seem to remember! Ah well. It has taken a lot of work but I've finally perfected my latest recipe! You'll be a dear and eat it, won't you? You'll be the first one to die by eating this; I've added the perfect amount of poison that kills nations to the batter."

Alfred eyes widened in terror as the innocent looking treat appeared in front of him. He sealed his lips and clenched his jaws, vainly trying to pull himself free of iron holds. Francis, who was holding his head, wrapped a hand around his throat, pinching the American's nose shut until Alfred began to grow dizzy and his lungs burned for oxygen. His brain felt fuzzy and numb, chest feeling like there was a mountain of lead on it. As vital parts of his brain shut down, the parts controlling his will collapsed and his jaws slacked open. Francis let go of his throat and nose, resumed holding his head in place and keeping Alfred's jaws pried open and Oliver shoved the poisonous pastry down his throat to the point Alfred could not gag it up if he wanted. The four got up and left him after he stopped struggling and fought to regain air.

So he was finally dying for real this time… He knew he should be panicking but somehow he was calm as he felt his heartbeat decrease. After all this time…he wouldn't have to suffer anymore. He wouldn't have to watch anyone else suffer and die. The guilt wouldn't gnaw at him anymore and he could finally go on and his spirit could be happy and free again. He was defeated; he had given up trying to beat the wendigo. It was too powerful for him to continue fighting anymore. His last thought before death was that he hoped everyone could forgive him for his faults.

* * *

Alfred woke up surrounded by pure white. He was alone as he looked around. For some reason this all felt so familiar… He stood up slowly, swaying a bit from dizziness. He recovered his balance and turned around in a complete circle, the bottom of his toga brushing his legs as he did so. A silvery halo floated over his head and snowy wings sprouted from his back. Alfred looked at his arms and legs, pulling the top of his toga down to examine his chest. He found no fresh wounds and no scars, surprisingly. Alfred became slightly worried when he saw a pair of shadowy figures headed towards him. Tensed to run he suddenly recognized the slightly shorter figure as his brother.

Alfred ran towards his brother, tripping over his own feet and landing on Connor, squashing his older brother under him. A happy noise came from Alfred as he hugged his brother tightly, ignoring squalls of protest. After he was done giving a warm embrace, Alfred sat back, pulling Connor upright as well. He demanded to know what happened and the older brother explained it to him.

He spoke of how the sky suddenly darkened of the storming heavens and lightening striking the ground as other angels flooded the battlefield. He spoke of how the alternate nations fled in terror, and how the wendigo narrowly escaped. He spoke of how many angels worked together to reverse time and undo the damage that had been done. Alfred was upset that the wendigo has escaped but was quickly soothed by his brother saying the wendigo had been banished to a universe far, far away. Nobody knew where the second players had gone and didn't really care as long as they didn't stir up trouble. Connor shared information of how any nations involved had their memories of the treacherous event wiped from their minds permanently except for a few who could handle it. The original Francis has returned to earth and Matthew was revived. Everyone was sent back to their correct times. And even after Connor was done talking, Alfred still pressed for more. So Connor spoke more and the two caught up with each other after centuries of not being around the other. The two talked for hours and were quite worn out after they had caught up.

After a while they lay down in the pure whiteness to take a nap, curling up together like they had when they were young children and all was right with the world; before they had become separated. The third figure smiled. She looked to be in her late 20's and wore a long white gown. Elegant white wings were folded to her back neatly and a gold-ish halo was atop her head. She had bright, intelligent brown eyes and long, silky black hair that flowed down to the middle of her back. Around her neck was a necklace; it was strung together on a thin piece of animal skin, a turquoise rock was between two spherical red pebbles, and attached to the turquoise rock was a bald eagle feather.

The woman knelt down by her two sleeping sons and planted a soft, feathery kiss on both of their foreheads, "My children… You have suffered so much since I've gone. Things hadn't gone as I expected. I knew you two would have to settle your differences as you grew older, and one wouldn't make it; though I never could have predicted the danger that has just recently passed." She sighed softly as she straightened out their clothes and wings, taking off their glasses, "The two of you were never destined to live side by side as nations, as you oppose the other's opinion. But I still love you both equally and even though you can't hear me now, I wish for you to carry these words in your hearts; I have and always will love you as much as any mother could ever love her children."

One stirred but neither woke. She gave a small smile, "Though you've both died and neither of your countries should exist thanks to unfortunate recent events… I'm sending you both back to the time of 2013. Alfred will continue to be the United States, but Connor; you'll be at his side to help him make better judgments. You'll both remember the event but it will be your jobs to figure out an explanation for a certain ex-nation reappearing after nearly a century and a half after his supposed death. I'll always be beside you….both of you…"

* * *

"Get up, lazy bones," Connor prodded Alfred. The younger brother was crushing him on the sofa. Alfred just snored loudly, "Get up!" Connor pushed Alfred off him and dumped him on the floor. Alfred bolted awake as he thumped onto the floor. About to give a sharp retort, Alfred was interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking at his surroundings, he noticed he was back in his house near Washington D.C. The two brothers glanced at each other before Alfred jogged to the door and Connor scrambled off the sofa and up the stairs.

"Oh, hey, Iggy, what's up?" Alfred asked as he opened the door, trying to sound as casual and calm as possible.

"I'm just here to remind you of the Washington D.C. Summit today at 9. Don't be late, you have an hour to get ready and be there." Arthur stated.

Alfred blinked, "If you don't mind me asking, what's today's date?"

Arthur gave him a questioning look and a slow answer, "April 27, 2013… Look I don't have time to play '20 Questions'. Just be there you twit." With that, Arthur turned and bounded off Alfred's front porch and into the already bustling sidewalks.

Alfred shut the door and called out to his brother, who descended the stairs cautiously. Noticing it was still only Alfred, Connor rejoined him. "What now…? I can't tell if this is real time or another space in the time paradox." Alfred muttered.

"I have a feeling in my gut that says everything is over and things are finally right with the world again," Connor patted his brother's shoulder.

Alfred felt deeply relieved and comforted by the ex-nation's words, choosing to believe him. He bounced back quickly, as usual, "Great! Now let's go find you something to wear to the Summit!"

"Wait," Connor said softly, "Will I be welcomed with open arms or shunned once again…? And what will you tell them?"

Alfred's expression turned thoughtful for a moment, "You're a part of the United States, now, as far as I'm concerned. The story we'll tell them will be that….you're like Gilbert! He was your mentor and now he's an ex-nation. He told us he was 'too awesome' to die but I think Paradise just couldn't deal with him and the other place couldn't keep up with him so they sent him back. Yeah! So basically you've been hiding out this entire time."

"Sure…just…don't speak of the wendigo and the kitsune around the others… They might think you've gone crazy… If they remember then I'm sure that they'll approach you first," Connor shrugged.

"Yay!" Alfred cheered and grabbed his brother's wrist, "Now let's go, we still need to get you into a suit!"

Almost fifteen minutes late, Alfred barged into the meeting hall with a cup of Starbucks in hand. "Hi guys!"

"You're late!" Ludwig barked at him.

"Whatever," Alfred shrugged and flopped into his chair at the head of the table, "I've got something of extreme importance to share with you guys anyway! You all remember my brother right? The one I fought with a long time ago?" Murmurs were passed throughout the assembled nations. "Well he's back!"

A few gasps of shock rang out and a few nations sprang to their feet, demanding to know if he needed help driving out the one they'd thought was dead. Alfred raised a hand for silence and the meeting hall grew uneasily quiet; so quiet in fact that one could have heard a fruit fly breaking wind. "Send him back!" A tanned young female with black hair hissed – the representation of Seychelles.

"I promise you I mean no harm," Connor stated from the doorway. A few nations remained stoic while others threw him nasty looks.

"Connor will be a second representative of the United States, my fill in if I'm ever too sick to attend; like Gilbert and Romano are for their brothers. Don't worry about slavery, it isn't an issue anymore. He'll continue to mostly represent the south of my country like he used to but…without as much power. We'll be splitting power equally between the two of us when it comes to governing the USA." Alfred put in, cutting off anybody who would try to tell the ex-nation off.

"I'm not expectin' anybody to give a warm greetin' to me now or ever. And don't go thinking I'm a threat either; ya gotta know when to put the past behind you…" Connor put in and moved gingerly to sit next to Alfred, watching everyone carefully. He didn't find the one nation in particular he was looking for. It was only after the meeting when he and Alfred were preparing to leave that two brunettes trotted over.

One was Antonio, the other was Pablo. Connor met Antonio's glare with a frightening look of his own. He was about to say something sharp when Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, as if saying "It's time you took your own advice and leave the past behind". Connor sighed and inhaled deeply to calm himself before giving Antonio a nod of acknowledgement. The Spaniard held out a hand and Connor shook it, both giving a little more force than necessary. Alfred watched them, worried; something in his gut was telling him that the two would have a hard time forgiving each other. He hoped his brother and the Spaniard could get along and work together side by side in peace one day.

When the iron gripping handshake was released, Pablo sprang forward from his spot next to Antonio, wrapping Connor in a huge hug. Although Alfred could understand Spanish and speak it fluently (as well as many, many other languages), he didn't quite catch what the Mexican whispered to Connor. The next part was louder, and in English, "I've missed you… It's been so long, amigo… Why did you have to leave me? You were my best friend…" It was the first time since they were children Alfred had ever seen Connor hug _anybody_ back. He smiled a bit, remembering how close the two had been in several of the time paradoxes. Maybe they'd still have a chance to be that close, even with the future being altered for the best.

When the two separated and Connor went to stand back next to Alfred, and Pablo beside Antonio, Alfred caught a dark glint in the Mexican's eyes. Alfred bit back a snarl but gave a frown, earning a smug look from Pablo. Then again, maybe he wouldn't allow his brother to get so close with him… Pablo was a shady, suspicious character and Alfred didn't trust his southernmost neighbor. Without a doubt, the dark haired nation was up to something. Antonio sensed the tension crackling in the air between the American and the Mexican and pulled Pablo away to talk with some other nations. The glare the two shared, however, was dangerous and promised challenge in the future.

Connor nudged Alfred's ribcage with his elbow, "Hey, don't act hostile. If I can get over my bitter hatred and spite for Antonio then you can learn to get along with Pablo."

"We'll see about that," Alfred growled.

"You should be happy we have a chance to live the life we were supposed to. Besides," the Southern ex-nation's voice dropped to a whisper, "We got rid of the second players and the wendigo. What better reason to celebrate than that?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Alfred agreed, cheering up again, "Now let's go get some food! I'm starving!" Most nations filed out of the room after the duo at the mention of food, though some were headed directly home.

As the meeting hall cleared out, nobody noticed a strange man watching them from the window. He looked gloomy, despite the fire and rage that shone in his magenta eyes. His hair was a dull blond which was significantly darker at the ends; black sunglasses nestled on top of his head. A strange curl sprouted from his bangs. He wore a red plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and grey jeans with rips in them and some red and white sneakers. He was quite muscular too. Turning away from the window, he turned to face another person; the alternate United States. The blond growled, "They think they've gotten rid of us, pah!"

Al smirked, one of his teeth missing from the skirmish with Connor, "Let them think that. And even if they can't hear me, let it be known that we are still here…and we won't give up until the bitter end."

The pink haired man next to Al snarled, "They will pay dearly for killing our Francis."

"We'll make sure of that," Al nodded to Oliver, "They may have won the battle, but the war has only just begun."

**END**

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**AN:/ **That's it! That's the end! Thank you all so much for your support! The reviews, favorites, and follows kept me pressing on! I'm sorry this last chapter is so late! But seriously, thank you all so much! Honestly, I'm kind of glad to be done with this ^^; After 8 months I was ready to be done! I started in September 2012 and now its over in April 2013...phew. I had fun 'competing' with GBTiger as we battled it out and challenged/rivaled each other in writing. We're good friends now because of it ^^ Pay her a visit when you can! She's got some good plans for future fanfictions~

This chapter's song is _I'm Moving On_ by Rascal Flatts.

Tell me what you guys think of the ending! I purposely left it so ambiguous in case I decide to write a sequel. So if you want to read any new stories I post, make sure you follow me as an author~! I've got some pretty sweet things coming up. But if you don't want to follow me that's okay too. Much love for following this story though! :D

Love, Alex


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